


The Measure of Man

by courgette96



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst, Bitterness, Creepy Snoke (Star Wars), Drunkenness, Emotional repression of the Hux kind, Eventual Smut, Flirting, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylux Reverse Bang, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Repression, Slow Burn, the force exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 01:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 124,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courgette96/pseuds/courgette96
Summary: After demonstrating his brilliance in the latest Military campaign, Major Armitage Hux of the Hussars ought to have been rewarded by the respect and admiration of England’s Upper Crust. Instead, he finds that blood and heritage are still the sole currency of value, and that his merit is worth very little in the face of the mediocre House his father has saddled him with.However, when he finds himself implicated in a covert plot to restore England to the past glory of its Imperialistic days, he sees the opportunity to satisfy his ambition and achieve the greatness he deserves. To reach the top of society, it is far easier to bring it down first.It would have been a straightforward plan, were it not for the intervention of one Lord Kylo Ren. All too soon, Hux finds himself swept away by an impossible man, the rise of appetites and affections he has long tried to bury within himself, and the discovery of a power that goes beyond what mere science might explain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GenerallyHuxurious (GallifreyanOmnishambles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/gifts).



> Here it is, the KRB fic!!! 
> 
> I have worked at this fic through six months, which have been marked by medical school, moving out, having my ceiling collapse, moving to a second apartment with an intact ceiling, and getting my driver's license. But it here, and I am so excited!
> 
> The absolutely stunning art is by the amazing [GallifreyanOmnishambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/works). They most likely need no introduction, but I cannot state enough how thrilled I was to be paired with them, nor how in awe I am of their incredibly talent. (You can find their tumblr [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/) )
> 
> Special thanks to my beta [mousiesshi](http://mousiesshi.tumblr.com//) . I am incredibly luck to have been assigned a beta so helpful and insightful. They have made this work so much better through their comments and noble defense of proper spelling.

 

 

 

Although it made a certain amount of natural sense that a Gentleman should refrain from throttling a person of nobility, even more so in public, Hux was beginning to wonder if certain exceptions couldn’t be made.

Lady Thanisson was certainly making a good case for it. Hux also thought she would make a perfect subject for a practical demonstration.

If anything, it would successfully put an end to the conversation where all else had failed.

“It is true, any ball her Majesty holds is a delight,” the Lady said primly as she dabbed her napkin to her lips. “However, _true_ magnificience is found in her private parties – have you ever attended?”

Hux forced himself to maintain a smile. “I haven’t had the honor.”

The smile she gave him was full of condescending sympathy. “I thought not. Your victories were impressive, but could not possibly compare to the value of a long-established house. Being in her Majesty’s special graces is truly reserved for the _crème de la crème,_ ” she concluded, far more smugly than her dreadful accent allowed.

“I can only hope to one day be so fortunate.”

“Fortune has nothing to do with it. All it takes is to be exceptional,” she said, with all the smugness of one who had accomplished nothing worthwhile in her life.

The same could be said for her house of a whole. Perhaps there had been a Thanisson who had done something worthwhile once, a very long time ago. Enough to earn the title of count. If so, then that theoretical Thanisson had made some poor choices when choosing a wife, for none of his heirs had accomplished anything of note since then.

And yet, here Hux was, forced to make deferent conversation with one of them.

The thought brought a sneer to Hux’s lips. He hid it by taking a sip from his glass. “Of course.”

“You have some potential, I’ll admit,” the Lady continued, none the wiser. “But a long way to go as well. I wasn’t even aware Brendol Hux had an eldest son until a couple months ago!”

“My father became a very private man when he retired,” Hux replied, the lie easily slipping from his lips after years of practice.

“That is the privilege of such a small house. You are granted anonymity so easily.” She sighed dramatically. “Not so with great houses. We are always in the spotlight.”

Hux couldn’t even bring himself to reply anything beyond a hum. The sour taste in his throat had little to do with the wine. It was entirely the fruit of his own bile.

To think he had wanted this.

Before the gates of this world had truly been open to him, he had been certain that they were the final hurdle before he truly establish himself within society. After waging war for months against the Russians and for years against his father, the little game of connections and courtesy had seemed barely an issue at all.

How smug he had been when he first set foot in these walls! How pride had flooded him when Alexandre Thanisson, once his equal in rank and now his subordinate, had introduced him to his cousin from the greater family branch! In that moment, he had reveled in the flattery that had poured from the other man’s lips, willfully forgetting how little he esteemed whatever the man had to say on any other occasion.

Such pride, such confidence. Surely this was the beginning of his triumph?

For all of the cynicism he prided in himself, he had unknowingly put fervor in childish fantasies.

The false beliefs that stemmed from fairy tales, where one great deed brought great reward, had led him to believe that once he forced these Lords and Ladies to see his brilliance, they would be forced to grant him the place he deserved.

Hux’s deed had been great; his reward had been a piece of charcoal tied up in elegant wrapping.

Here he was, in the belly of the only beast that mattered. The pampered house pet that lazed on a couch with an elegant collar and a languorous air, licking its lips as it fed on the cream that others had provided.

The conceited arrogance had held such shine from a distance. Back when Hux was nothing more than the hidden away shame of Lord Hux’s indiscretions, he had been captivated by those Lords and Ladies, with their ancient diamonds and even more ancient names with even greater worth. Back when his own name was his most tenuous position, reluctantly granted by his undeniable likeness to his father, to have such things was a tantalizing prospect indeed.

And even then, Hux had known in his heart of hearts that he was better than all of them.

 _My claws are sharp,_ he had often thought when the Queen’s ball was still but a distant objective. _My mind is sharper still. What can the house cats and pampered birds possibly do against me?_

He had failed to realize that being granted access in the house still barred him from the bird cage. That while he was allowed to thread on the floor, he was forever denied the high perch from where the view was best.

And Lady Thanisson _still wasn’t done talking._

“Of course, there can only be so many titles upon a greeting card. It is the height of torment to choose which ones to put to pen. I always feel as if I were betraying an illustrious history, and I-”

There was a shout. The sound of porcelain smashing erupted nearby. The bell like sound swept over the room, putting a stop all conversation on its way.

One champagne flute had been enough to put half the room to silence. It was a testament to the Upper class’ hearing abilities: where most would only hear shards from a broken plate hitting the floor, they perceived gossip in the making.

All heads turned towards the source of the commotion, Hux’s included.

He was completely unsurprised by the sight that greeted him.

A Lord Hux knew not the name of the man who was standing, fist clenched and shaking in impotent fury. His chest pushed forward in a manner that most likely intended to display strength, but instead brought to mind a small animal attempting to make himself seem large.

And in front of the Lord, lying far too back in his chair with his legs spread far too wide, was Kylo Ren. His face was composed in a bland mask of aloofness tinged with arrogance. However, the effect was undermined by Ren’s eyes, which were far too dark and far too expressive to hide the truth of his feelings as he looked upon the fumbling old man.

Those eyes belonged to a predator that had caught its prey.

Hux could hardly look away from them.

Ren whispered something too low for Hux to hear. Whatever it was, it must have been vicious. And incredibly effective.

The old Lord recoiled as if struck. Face red with fury, he grabbed his wine glass, his eyes making it clear that he intended to pour the entire content upon Ren’s shirt.

Ren didn’t even make a move to dodge. He merely smirked.

Hux was certain he would see that arrogant expression washed away by wine, replaced by an angry sneer. Perhaps even a fist fight, if rumors of Ren’s temper held true.

But he was wrong, for the scene took a strange turn.

By all appearances, the man stumbled on his own feet. One moment perfectly balanced, the next falling backwards as if he had been shoved back. His glass slipped from his hand, spiraling through the air. The wine formed an elegant arc in the air, splashing all over the old man’s shirt like a sword wound.

Not a drop landed upon Ren.

The look of surprise and outrage on the old man’s face promised dire retribution. Before it could come however, a butler helped the old Lord up and ushered him into private room, no doubt to wipe away the stain and avoid a greater scene.

With the wounded party gone, conversations resumed in hushed whispers, no doubt discussing what all had just witnessed.

Ren merely took a sip of his wine, looking far too satisfied with himself.

“I cannot believe the man,” Lady Thanisson breathed out.

Hux sniffed, for once in agreement with her. “It is incredibly distasteful.”

“So scandalous,” she purred. “And have you seen his jacket? That red lining is so… inappropriate.”

There was a breathlessness to her voice, a slight blush to her cheeks, hinting that Lady Thanisson interest in Ren was for reasons other than concern over proper clothing etiquette.

“That man has never been appropriate in his life,”Hux scoffed.

And yet, he never seemed to suffer any consequences for it.

Property damage. Being spotted in all sorts of unsavory locations during nighttime and dawn. Insisting he be referred to by any other name other than his own, going to far as to adopt the pen name he had used for his one publication.

The poetry he had written…. Hux had to steady his breath from the mere thought of it. An unacceptable collection that could only be read in the dead of night. Each verse was a new testament to the man’s shamelessness. Hux had spent far too many nights with his mind in shambles over the outrageousness of the man.

He ought to have been banished from polite society for that tome alone.

And yet, he was invited to every gathering. And yet, the Queen continued to suffer him in her court. She had even granted him knighthood in the Order of Ren – though Hux took some comfort in rumors that she had done so only to better rein him in through the duties the function brought.

Hux could barely stand the thought of it.

His eyes narrowed as he kept on gazing at Ren, who looked so very smug sitting in his chair. Hux watched as Ren stretched, paused midway, and slowly turned his head, scanning the room. When his gaze settled upon Hux, he stopped.

And winked.

Hux looked away, hoping his complexion would not make his blush too obvious.

The trumpets rang, announcing the first dance was soon to start. Several gentlemen rose from their chairs to formally request a dance from their seating neighbor.

Hux remained seated.

“Will you find a partner for the dance?” Lady Thanisson asked. As she spoke, she extended her hand ever so slightly.

No doubt she thought herself subtle. No doubt she thought she was doing him a favor.

And indeed she was, though not in the way she intended.

“Sadly, My Lady, I have yet to shed the stiffness brought from years in the military,” he said, tone contrite even as he reveled in finding a way out of her company. “I fear I will be a very poor dancing partner tonight.”

Her smile didn’t falter, but stiffened so considerably that Hux hoped she would pull a muscle. “I see.” She sniffed. “Well, hopefully, you will work on that flaw.”

“A gentleman should always strive to better himself.”

Blessedly, the Lady did not have a chance to reply, for the two of them spotted her cousin coming towards them in haste. Alexandre Thanisson looked upon Hux with much more fondness than was appropriate – much less reciprocated.

“Hux, my good man!” he greeted with the excessive cheer that never failed to irritate. “I trust everything is going well?”

“More than well, and I have you to thank. And your arrival is most timely, for your cousin is in need of a suitable dance partner.” He stood up, placing a palm to Lord Thanisson’s back, and pushed him lightly towards the Lady. “You will do her far more justice than I, I trust.”

He left before either of them could reply. His gracious smile prevented any words of protest from either of them.

It wasn’t the most dignified of exits, nor the most proper. Hux could hardly bring himself to care. This early part of the night had taken a toll on both his nerves and his time, neither of which seemed salvageable.

He knew at least part of the blame was his. He had known Thanisson the man to be mediocre in every sense; why ever did he expect the cousin to be different?

For a few moments, he toyed with the idea of inviting another Lady to dance. No one important, of course; one of the wallflowers who would most certainly be grateful for his considerations. No doubt the Lady Thanisson would be furious, and perhaps building a reputation of a gentleman could be of some -

But no, that would not do. The Thanissons were hardly the great family they thought themselves to be, but they still had more influence than Hux could claim. Word would get out that he had refused to dance with her under false pretense, and even though she had been too bold in her behavior she would still come out as the wounded party.

Therefore, participating in any upcoming dance would no longer be an option.

 _Damn_.

Hux eyes narrowed.

He would not berate himself for it, he decided. He would suffer no insult, would tolerate no condescension. He had done so for far too long in his life already.

But what to do then? This ball was an opportunity, how would he seize it fully?

He didn’t know.

 _Damn_.

Aimlessness crept, nestled in his shoes to try to make him walk in circles like a lost child. Hux grit his teeth.

He would not let himself appear so pitiful.

To buy himself some time, he made his way towards the nearest beverage table, hoping the short wait needed before being served champagne would give him enough time to think over his next move. As we waited for the footman to address him, he spotted Major General Ozzel and opportunity.

Hux had not seen him often during the campaign, but officers are bound to go to the front lines every now and again, if only for appearance’s sake. As the one of the highest ranking officers there, Hux had had the opportunity to meet the man more than once.

It wasn’t the best of connections, but it was enough to allow him to approach the Major General without seeming too bold.

He took a step forward, and spoke in the steady yet respectful voice he had perfected over the years. “Major General. It is an honor to meet you here.”

The Major’s eyes barely shifted towards him. “You are?” he asked dispassionately.

“Major Armitage Hux, sir, from the-”

“Right, Major. I do not make it a policy to fraternize with subordinates, unless it is absolutely necessary,” he sniffed. “Good evening to you.”

He left without another word.

Hux watched him go, struck mute by shock and humiliation.

In a hurry, he turned toward the table, ducking his chin to hide his burning cheeks.

What a disaster this evening proved to be! Hours he had been here already, only to be met with nothing but condescension and scorn. Both he was familiar with, but both he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Not since he left his father’s home.

Yet here it was again, as if his mere presence in society was enough to summon it anew.

Was there something to his stance? A slight hunch that betrayed his mother’s status?

Was there something in his voice? An accent that he hadn’t rid himself of, that belonged in the kitchen rather than the dining room?

Hux shook his head to clear his thoughts.

The condescension he had received had nothing to do with his birth and all to do with his name. Which, in turn, had all to do with his father. This was just another hurdle the old coot saw fit to inflict upon him.

Hux was so _very_ glad the man had cancer.

He could still recover from this. The Major General was neither essential nor important to his goals.

Earlier on, Hux had spotted a group of classmates from his later years at the Academy. All of them were of the lower upper class, whose status had been gained through their wealth rather than any influence. Hardly the company someone of ambition should keep.

Still, Hux had been pragmatic enough to keep a correspondence with most of them, and he knew himself well liked enough that even after all these months away he would easily be able to integrate himself into their group of friends.

The only hardship would be wracking his brain to find what he could possibly say to those people.

“You’re in the way.”

Hux blinked, turning sharply towards the person behind him.

Kylo Ren was staring at him, his lips pursed in a sullen pinch and his eyes filled with an unreadable intensity. He was standing close, far closer than was proper, and that fact combined with his undeniably impressive physique made Hux feel loomed over. His hands twitched with the childish urge to press on Ren’s shoulders and push him down.

Ren’s mouth pulled into a discreet, barely-there smirk. It was even more infuriating than the wink.

Hux bristled.

It is true internal musing had indeed made him lose track of his surroundings, and that he had been blocking access to the refreshments. That did not mean he would apologize to such a rude individual.

“I am in line, sir. There is a significant difference.” He gave the man the most withering glare he could manage. “You will simply have to wait your turn.”

“Then you had best seize yours when it comes.”

The reply had come instantaneously, in a soft, deep voice that absolutely infuriated Hux. How dare the man act so unaffected? Worse still, so _dismissive_?

He sneered. “Are you so desperate for drunkenness that you cannot abide waiting for more than a minute?”

Ren scoffed. “I do not get drunk.”

“I have heard otherwise.”

“What else have you heard?”

Ren’s voice was a low purr, both threatening and _mirthful._ His eyes held more amusement than rage, as if Hux were too inconsequential to warrant anger.

Hux clenched his jaw, ignoring the sharp twist in his guts that he attributed to his own fury.

“Enough to know that I do not wish to converse with you.” The footman handed him a glass of champagne; he took it without breaking eye contact with Ren. “Good evening to you.”

He was quite pleased with himself when he walked away, satisfied that he had had the last word at least once tonight.

But with each step, his satisfaction bled away, leaving more than enough room for reality to crash upon him.

He had just spurned and insulted Kylo Ren.

He had just antagonized an individual who clearly held the Queen’s favor.

Had he not just told himself not to make enemies for himself? How well he had held onto that resolve!

Kylo Ren was a disgrace, but a powerful one. And Hux had just openly dismissed him.

_You squander an opportunity, like the foolish boy you are. You have nothing to your name that is worth that pride of yours._

That was the voice of his father. The one that neither the sounds of canons or the cheers of his men had ever managed to quiet. The one that still held strength and power, when Brendol Hux had still been in his prime, and Armitage was merely –

On his way to glory. Already then. Still now. Even if the road proved far longer than he initially suspected.

He could walk it for as long as it took, and thread through any mud it might contain.

He was quick to find the former classmates he had settled for. With a smile, an anecdote and a joke, he easily integrated himself into the conversation.

It was extremely dull.

The conversation rested entirely on the topic of eligible young women, and who the most desirable might be. Hux could barely resist the urge to roll his eyes – his classmates had had the exact same debate countless times when they were still boys. It was a miracle they hadn’t grown bored of it yet.

Grown men, and still their sole interest was tot-hunting.

One woman in particular became the center of most of the gossip. Blond hair, silver dress, she sat with her spine straight and her head held high, her fan unfolded and clenched into her fist like a spear. Like schoolchildren, his former classmates spent far too long making boast and high claims while never being willing to be the one to approach her.

And like schoolchildren, they had decided that the best way to solve the issue would be to dare someone among the group to go up and speak to her.

When Hux had volunteered, mostly out of boredom than anything else, they had all gawked at him.

When he turned to make well on his offer, he could almost _hear_ them trying not to be too obvious in their spying.

He didn’t bother disguising his approach, as it was obvious the Lady had seen him coming from miles away. The ogling group behind him was hardly the most conspicuous, and there was a sharpness in her gaze that spoke of a keen perception.

“You do not dance, my Lady?” he said in lieu of a greeting. From the manner she was looking at him, he suspected the usual formalities would bore her.

The Lady tilted her head. “Very few ask me to,” she replied, voice low and steady. “I make sure to keep it that way.”

Hux gave her his most charming smile. “And if I were to offer conversation? Would I hold your interest then?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That would depend.”

“On?”

“On if you were interesting.”

“Well then, would a Major of the Hussard recently returned from the front hold any appeal?”

The Lady held his gaze for a short moment, before extending her hand.“Lady Phasma of Coruscounty.”

Repressing a smirk of triumph, Hux took it. “It is an honor to meet you,” he replied, bending down for his _baise-main._ “Major Hux.”

“How has civilian life been treating you, Major?”

“The pace is more languid, to say the least.Though London’s noise has nothing to envy to a battlefield’s.”

“ _A silent battlefield is a sign of success, for it is the sign of dead foes_.”

Hux startled in surprise. The quote was from General Tarkin’s memoires. How in heaven would a woman be familiar with his work?

“I heard the Russians learned it at their own expenses,” Phasma continued. Her smirk held an edge of viciousness, either from her delight at the Russian’s plight or at taking Hux so off guard.

“I strove for efficiency.”

“Enough to earn the name _Tsar-killer._ ”

She spoke the moniker as if she were savoring its taste.

 Hux raised his eyebrow. “How have you heard of that name? I only held it at the front.”

She ignored him. “Do sit,” she ordered, gesturing towards the empty seat beside her. “This conversation interests me.”

Hux complied, though not mollified in the least. “Most women are hardly interested in military craft.”

“You do not strike me as the type to speak to many women.”

Hux stilled, then did his best to hide it by pretending to shift to a more comfortable position. With as casual an air as he could manage, he studied her expression, her eyes. Trying to find some joke he was not privy too behind that remark.

Or worse, some secret that should have been his alone to know.

Hux forced himself to calm down. His behavior had been irreproachable. There was nothing she could fault him for or comment upon.

Suspicion was useful, paranoia much less so.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of melding within society.”

“The pleasure,” she repeated, as if amused by the choice of words. Before Hux could reply, she carried on as if the interlude hadn’t occurred at all. “Lord Tarkin – yes, that Lord Tarkin – was my great uncle; the only stories he knew to tell were military campaigns, and only the successful ones. I enjoyed them immensely.” She shifted her fan in her hand; in her new grip, it looked as if she were holding a gun. “His passing did not put an end to that taste, although it made it much more difficult to satisfy.”

“I read your great uncle’s work. I admire his legacy. However, I do have some criticism with his later strategies.” He tilted his head to the side. “Does my confession offend you?”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “Fresh blood is a boon for both my entertainment and our army. Most of our officers haven’t seen a battlefield in years. Their stories and strategies grow stale.” She settled into her seat. “Tell me about the campaign.”

In truth, Hux was only too happy to comply. He hadn’t told this tale nearly often enough to satisfy his pride.

“The Russians had larger numbers, which I’m sure they believed would give them the advantage. Unfortunately for them, the region we were in was very familiar to our cartographers.” He grew more and more enthusiastic as he spoke. He had to keep himself from gesticulating his hands in time with his words – a terrible habit, fit for the ill-bred and ineloquent, and one he shamefully hadn’t managed to purge himself of. “I was able to obtain a detailed lay-out of the land, including the precise height of neighboring hills. Most of my efforts went into obtaining a detailed location of enemy troops. Once that was achieved, all I needed to do was calculate the optimum placement and angle for our artillery.”

“And that was enough?”

“You would be surprised how many projectiles are wasted through poor aim. Given an approximate target with an approximate aim, it is understandable.” He knew he sounded smug; he had good reasons to be. “I knew the detailed capabilities of the weapons at my disposal. All I needed were a few days to make all the calculations necessary to use them at their best. When the time came, efficiency rose by 55%. The Russians were already half-decimated when the infantry and cavalry were deployed.”

“You have studied engineering?”

Hux hesitated. Though it wasn’t uncommon for young men of nobility to have a field of study beyond the military, engineering was not a common field of study. Not quite as profitable as business. Not as prestigious as politics. A fine profession, but thankless and obscure.

Perfect for a bastard son.

Unseemly for the heir of an estate.

“My education was uncommon, but well-rounded,” he settled on finally. He didn’t elaborate any further.

Fortunately, Phasma required no further justification. “It served you well,” she said with a nod of approval. “Most wouldn’t have thought of using such tactics.”

“Most aren’t as smart as I am.”

She let out a laugh, like it had been startled out of her. “You think highly of yourself.”

Hux smirked. “Not at all. I am merely a good judge of character.”

She laughed once more. Several pairs of eyes turned towards them – and more than a few were filled with jealousy. Out of the corner of his eye, Hux spotted his former classmates openly gawking.

He preened, and purposefully leaned forward as Phasma started speaking again.

Their conversation continued from there on, shifting from military strategies to their respective upbringing. Phasma spoke of her family’s insistence on military values, which she herself held in high regard. Her family often held dinners wherein officers formed most of the guest list, she recounted, and to this day had found no gathering with better company or ambiance.

She also held a surprising knowledge in liquor and drinking establishments; it raised many questions, none of which were appropriate for a first conversation.

She was a remarkable Lady, beyond what status she may have. He had been so engrossed in the conversation he had forgotten to find out.

Several dances had gone by during their talk. It was almost time for the waltz, and from the corner of his eye Hux saw several young women straighten their spine as they waited for a partner to approach them.

Phasma did no such thing, reclining in her seat as she opened her fan. “I should like to speak with you again,” she said casually, fanning herself. “On another day.”

She said the words as if they meant nothing, but Hux’s spirits soared to hear them. This was the accomplishment he had sought out to achieve. A connection made, and judging from the envious glances he was still receiving, one of immense value. The knowledge filled him with pride.

Privately, he was also heartened to see that his good feelings were returned.

His smile was entirely genuine. “It would be my pleasure.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes paused something behind him. Hux turned to see what had caught her attention.

And nearly groaned.

Was he not even permitted one pleasant conversation this evening?

The Major General was making his ways towards them, a short, plump man in his wake. Hux watched as one of the highest ranking officers in the Queen’s army nearly bumping into several attendees in his way, so uncaring was he of anyone save himself. The man behind the Major General was sweating profusely. Hux couldn’t quite tell if it was from nerves or if it was merely his natural state of being.

When he came in front of them, he paused. For a brief second, he looked upon Hux, but said nothing. His eyes were vague, as if he were unsure of what he meant to do next, or was taking too long in collecting his thoughts.

Then, that odd moment passed, he turned to greet the Lady as was appropriate.

“Lady Phasma,” he said courteously, if somewhat stiffly. “Such a joy to meet you again.”

“Thank you, Major General.” Phasma’s tone was nothing but gracious. “It has indeed been quite some time.”

“Too long. Far too long.”

Hux fully expected the conversation to turn to their shared history – a topic he could not contribute to in any meaningful manner – and settled himself in his chair trying not to appear to sullen.

Instead, the Major General ushered his companion forward, pushing the nervous looking man in front of Phasma. “May I introduce Thaddeus Palleon. He is the son of a very good friend of mine, who in turn was friends with your great uncle.”

“I am aware,” Phasma replied. She looked none too pleased by the interruption, but was far too well bred to show anything beyond slightly cold smile. She extended her hand towards the timid-looking man. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

As she spoke the words, she shot a glance towards Hux that expressed with great elegance her true feelings on the matter.

Hux did his best to disguise his amused smile into one of polite interest.

Palleon took her offered hand with a slightly shaky grip. When he bent down, he leaned too far, making his lips fully brush against the back of Phasma’s hand rather than merely linger over them. “Might I have the pleasure of dancing the upcoming quadrille with you?”

He didn’t return her greeting. He spoke of the “pleasure” of dancing rather than the “honor.” With such a display of poor manners, Phasma had more than enough grounds to refuse the invitation. However, the Major General’s insistent stare made it clear would not be satisfied with such an answer.

She accepted the invitation with remarkable good grace, though she did not return the smile Palleon gave her.

With his companion gone, Hux saw no reason to stay. He ought to find his old classmates in the crowd; surely, they would wish to hear all about his quality time with the object of their gossip.

Or better yet, he thought as he stood up, he could simply take his leave and return to his London flat. Take out a cigar and a glass of bourbon, and finally release the stream of profanity he had been stifling behind his teeth all night long.

That prospect was growing increasingly appealing by the second.

The Major General stopped him with a hand on his shoulders. “I would have a word with you.”

Hux’s smile was more akin to a flash of teeth. “I thought you made it a policy not to interact with subordinates,”

“I have been too quick in dismissing you.”

Hux frowned at the strange flatness in the man’s voice, so different from the pompous arrogance that had imbued it not an hour earlier.

“Despite your youth, you have indeed distinguished yourself on the battlefield. I was hasty in overlooking it,” the Major General continued. “Your performance against the Russians showed some promise. Perhaps even potential.”

The term performance was an insult – one Hux had yet to determine if it was voluntary or not. It hardly mattered, for he was in no position to do anything but grit his teeth and remember it for a later reckoning.

“There is a chance for you to go far in this world,” the man continued, sounding like a teacher lecturing a pupil. “It is just as likely that you will never rise further.”

“I have never shied from difficulty,” Hux said through gritted teeth. “You concern is appreciated, nonetheless.”

The Major General gave him a cold glare. “I am trying to help you, my boy.”

“My title is Major, _sir_.” Hux punctuated the bite he put in the title by lifting his chin.  “Though you may address me as Lord Hux, should your aversion to using my rank prove to strong.”

He kept his gaze unflinching, until his adversary breathed heavily and averted his eyes. “I will overlook your insolence this once, Major.”

 _I will not do the same for yours,_ Hux thought.

The other man leaned forward then, speaking his next words in an urgent whisper. “I know your sort. I am the same. However, unlike you, I am in contact with like-minded men. Military men. Men of ambition, who would see this country restored to greatness.” He leaned even closer still, if that were possible. “Are you a patriot, Lord Hux?”

Hux took the non-sequitur in stride. “For Queen and country.”

The Major General’s smiled then. It was a dark sort of smirk, more smug and ominous than anything else. “At least for now,” he said softly.

He didn’t elaborate any further, instead extending his hand as if to shake Hux’s. When Hux hesitantly returned his grip, he felt a small card slide into his palm.

“The time is eleven at night on Friday,” he murmured. “When you present yourself, say to the man at the door that you have come for your first order. Our people there will take care of the rest.”

He left without saying another word. In other circumstances, Hux would have been terribly annoyed. As it was, he could only stare at the small object in his hand.

The card was plain. Black font upon white paper, with only a watermark in the shape of a sun to distinguish it in any form. On the front were just four words.

_The New Imperium Lounge._

Hux had never heard of it. Perhaps it didn’t even exist.

Perhaps this was all some elaborate joke?

But such a strange trick for a man to play….

Hux looked up, scanning the room with narrowed eyes as if some secret were hidden within the crowd.

There was nothing there of course. No one was so much as glancing his way.

Hux looked down at the card again, the Major General’s words running through his mind.

_Men of ambition. Like minded men._

_Are you a patriot, Lord Hux?_

He clenched his fist.

 _Neither for Queen nor her land,_ he thought. _But for myself. I know no better cause._

He tucked the card inside his vest pocket, feeling its weight tenfold as it rested against his heart, and made his way towards the door.

There was a plot to be had, a great one if it involved someone of such high rank; that much was certain. And Hux would not tolerate being anywhere but at the center of it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, special thanks to both GenerallyHuxurious for their stunning art, and mousiesshi for their amazing work and support in both betaing and general cheerleading!

 

Delicate fingers trailed over the curve of his shoulders, gently gliding down his arms. Hux let out a breath as those hands reached around him to tug at the lapels of his jacket, before slowly making their way up towards his collar.

“Almost there,” the man behind him murmured as his fingers hovered over the dip of Hux’s throat.

Hux resisted the urge to close his eyes as the hands tugged at the buttons. He kept his gaze straight ahead, observing the whole scene in the mirror.

The tailor took a step back.

“There it is, my Lord,” he said with all the pride of a job well done. “I hope it is to your liking.”

Hux looked down at the cuffs of his new jacket, inspecting them for flaws he knew he wouldn’t find. Lloyd was nothing if not meticulous, and though he was not yet forty, he possessed the skills and precision of a man with far more decades of experience.

“I trust the fabric is light enough for the summer,” Hux commented as he stepped down from the stool.

“It is Italian made, my Lord,” Lloyd replied. “I spent a few summers there in my youth. The heat there would certainly rival that in India. Unbearable, were it not for the light clothes and the wine.”

“Is that where you met Antonello?”

The assistant perked up when he heard his name, but his still limited understanding of English prevented him from responding. He went back to rearranging the rolls of fabric upon the shelves. It was the only task he seemed both willing to do and capable of. In all the years Hux had come here, he had never seen him so much as hold a needle.

Then again, Lloyd hadn’t brought him along for his tailoring skills.

The grin Lloyd gave him was full of cheek. “I couldn’t leave him behind. He had so many talents.” His smile grew wider. “If you would like to know more, I would be delighted to give you a more detailed account.”

So brazen was he that he went so far as to wink.

Hux narrowed his eyes.

They both knew there was a reason he came here, beyond Lloyd’s undeniable skills. Certain appetites needed to be purged, and only few ways to do it without ruining his reputation or catching an unjustifiable disease. Or both. Lloyd knew the importance of discretion, for all that he flaunted his Italian boy in his shop.

It was a fair arrangement the two of them had: Lloyd got a regular customer, and Hux received impeccable suits and the opportunity to let his eyes roam a touch longer than he would in other circumstance.

Lloyd certainly did not mind: there was a vainness to the tailor, who knew himself to be remarkably fit and youthful looking despite his few grey hairs, and he accepted Hux’s roaming eyes with as much enthusiasm as he accepted his coin. As for Antonello, well, he was little more than a hunting trophy in the first place; Lloyd so enjoyed flaunting his curly-haired, twenty year old Italian boy.

It was all Hux needed. His inclinations were a thing to be managed and not indulged. Regrettable as his preference might be, as long as he did not truly partake it would not interfere with his ambitions.

“I have no interest in Antonello’s _talents_ ,” he said firmly. “Or your own, beyond what outfits you might make for me.”

His tailor did not look particularly chastised, but inclined his head in concession.

Perhaps Hux ought to abstain from returning for a while? Make it clear that certain insinuations would not be tolerated?

Lloyd turned towards his counter to look at the register, bending down to retrieve the large tome. Hux took the time to admire the view. for a man in his mid-forties, Lloyd was in remarkable shape - no doubt Antonello supplied many sessions of vigorous exercises. Added to that the wisps of grey hair among thick black locks, a strong nose that made for a distinct profile….

Ah well, perhaps Hux could let the impertinence slide. These suits _were_ very nicely made, after all.

 

~*~

 

The _New Imperium’_ s façade was as nondescript as its card: white stone turned grey from age and dirt, heavy wooden frames surrounding the doors and windows, lightly faded black letters printed upon the entrance arch. Blurred glass windows that revealed nothing of the inside save that it was dimly lit and most likely not very crowded.

As Hux stepped to the front door, he noted how chipped and used the paint beneath the door leaf was. That it had reached this state spoke of frequent use; that it had been left in that manner rather than repainted spoke of glory days long past.

As he stepped inside, Hux was hit with an odor of old velvet and spices, just odd enough to be unpleasant. The carpet was an old grey that had most likely been black once, and kept the mold of his foot after each step. The wallpaper bore geometric patterns Hux knew to have been popular some fifty years ago. The place could never be considered fashionable in a million years, yet it had not aged enough to bear the charming qualifier of “traditional”.

The rooms were lit with gas rather than candles. That was a minor relief.

Hux approached the reception, where a man of indeterminate age was patiently waiting to be addressed. Hux was likely the only customer he had seen in the past hour.

“I am here for my first order,” he said, following the Major General’s instructions and trying not to feel terribly foolish doing so.

The man in front of him didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the odd statement. “Of course, sir. If you will follow me.”

He then turned on his heels and walked in a brisk pace. The regularity of his steps and the straightness of his spine spoke of military service.

Hux was led up a narrow staircase – a servant’s corridor, he recognized with distaste. The floorboards creaked under his feet, as did the hinges of the door he was ushered through. It led to a hallway that matched the hall in all things save the state of repair – it was, inexplicably, far cleaner and shinier. The wood even held fresh polish.  What would have been unremarkable in any regular establishment stood out here.

When they finally reached their destination, Hux was left alone in a private room that was still empty save for himself. He took a seat at the black wooden table that occupied half the space, letting his eyes drift towards the lit fireplace and the alcove furnished with lush leather sofas and liquor bars. The room was decorated with several black marble busts.

He scoffed loudly.

This was all _terribly_ conspicuous, from the address to the general aesthetic, to the sole distinguishable hallway, to the private room where anyone could be so very easily overheard. It was the perfect caricature of a villainous lair from a Lady’s novelette.

Who on Earth had chosen this place?

That question could very well last a long time without answer. Five minutes after the announced meeting time and Hux was still the only one in the room.

This “plot” was looking shoddier by the minute.

Finally, fifteen minutes in, another gentleman stepped inside the room. This one bore a dark coat – of course – a dark hat that obscured his face – naturally-, and didn’t speak a word of greeting at Hux as if he were afraid that his voice alone would reveal his identity. None of that stopped him from wearing his military uniform underneath the ridiculous coat, with all the gallons and insignias it implied.

Hux very nearly rolled his eyes.

More men of the same ilk arrived, some coming in groups, others discretely slipping inside the room. A few of them nodded their head in his direction; Hux returned the greeting, although he made sure his gesture was smaller.

Eventually, almost all the seats were occupied, save two at the very head of the table. The room was filled with quiet murmurs and the occasional laughter; it was obvious the meeting wasn’t to start yet.

Hux took advantage of the moment to study his surroundings; most of the people here he recognized, though he knew none of them personally - save perhaps the Major General, who had not even spared a glance in Hux’s direction when he had entered the room. Many of them were higher officers, the type to attend only the most formal of gatherings.

In fact, he noted with no small amount of displeasure, he was the lowest ranking officer in attendance.

Was this nothing but an occasion to be scorned in a more private, less fashionable setting?

Before he could ponder the issue further, the entire room fell silent as the door opened once more.

Hux watched as a thin, nearly gaunt looking man slowly walked into the room. His face was a mass of wrinkles and dips, with one large scar nearly camouflaged among the marks of age. His steps were slow and steady, making him look as if he were gliding towards his seat. It only added to the impression that this was a specter making its way rather than a man of flesh and blood.

When he reached his chair, he extended his thin, bony hands to grip the top of the backrest. With only one arm he pulled it back, and Hux was surprised to see it slide along the carpet with little resistant.

The chair was solid wood. Such an old man shouldn’t have been expected to display such strength.

When the man took his seat, he reclined within it as if it were a throne, each hand curved over the edge of the armrest. No one said a word.

And everyone waited still.

Hux frowned.

Whoever that man was, he was obviously the leader of this committee. Why not start, now that he had arrived.?

Hux did the best to hide his confusion, disguising it as careful scrutiny.

He barely managed to keep up the deceit when he saw Kylo Ren enter the room.

What was he doing here? He wasn’t even part of the military!

But no one seemed to share his objections; a few even inclined their head in deference.

Ren paid them no mind. He walked with none of the arrogance and spectacle he usually put out: his eyes were very nearly downcast, his expression both sullen and solemn. It suited him far more than bravado ever did. It gave his odd features a sort of nobility. With his impressive stature and physique, it was a striking picture, Hux found.

Then he caught his thoughts and nearly slapped himself for them. Honestly, there was nothing in Ren’s newfound appearance that couldn’t be attributed to a dimly-lit room.

When Ren made his way towards the end of the table, the old man at the head extended his hand. His eyes were trained onto the younger man, filled with an intensity that was eerie coming from a man that age.

Ren seemed either unbothered or entirely too used to it. “My Lord Snoke,” he murmured in deference, taking the hand in his and inclining his head. He didn’t rise until Snoke removed his hand to place it upon Ren’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against where Ren’s collarbone would be.

Hux found it all incredibly off-putting, though he could not explain why.

When Ren took his seat by Snoke’s side, the old man finally turned to address the assembly.

“Gentlemen,” he greeted. His voice was odd: so soft as to almost be a hiss, yet it carried across the room. “How wonderful to see you all gathered here.”

No one in the room responded; they, clearly, were not expected to.

“I know some of you have been concerned over the scarcity of our meetings. It is a testament to your character that you continue to show such unwavering loyalty.” A few men stood straighter in their seats, faces shining with easily solicited pride. “Our cause requires discretion, our efforts perseverance. Both qualities you have all proven to possess in spades, along with a sense of valor and honor that will save this nation. This _Empire,_ for an empire it is, despite what some soft-hearted monarchs might fancy.” He chuckled. “As in so many other domains, we can all attest to the Queen’s terrible lack of vision.”

“But not for long!” someone exclaimed from his left; Hux did not recognize him.

Snoke’s eyes flashed with displeasure at the interruption, too fast for most to see. The irritation was quickly replaced by a slow, slick grin. “How right you are. Not for long. All thanks to you brave men. You, who see the necessity of bringing down the weak and the corrupt.”

Hux raised an eyebrow.

This was what it was all about? It was…radical.

Surely it would be easier to run for Prime Minister _before_ trying to bring down the government?

Snoke stilled then. It shouldn’t have been noticeable, not with the near statue-like demeanor he already bore. Yet somehow, Hux could feel the shift in his attention.

And somehow, it was unsurprising when the old man slowly turned his head until his eyes bore into Hux’s.

“We have a new face in our midst,” he croaked out; his voice gave no indication as to his thoughts about Hux’s presence.

Hux merely nodded, unwilling to take any more chances in his reply.

“Your name,” Snoke demanded.

Hux stifled his irritation at the disrespect. “Major Armitage Hux.”

“Tell me, Major Hux: what has brought you here?”

He took a moment to answer, weighing his words his words carefully as he sought an answer that was both safe and appealing to the gathered crowd. “I am a patriot.”

His answer was met with murmurs of approval. Hux did not let his guard down, his eyes still meeting Snoke’s stare.

“Then you are among your peers,” the old man croaked out with a smile. “Those who can and have spilled blood for their homeland.” His voice rose in volume and intensity, and with it the spirit of his audience. “Those whose legitimacy is forged through deeds and not through words!”

“Here here!” an officer cried out.

“Far more than what her Majesty can claim!” said another.

“Italian sow!”

“And those who would serve in her government!”

“No better than traitors!”

The commotion grew, the crowd galvanizing itself which each additional vociferation. The result of a fine orator and years of frustration under a Queen who made no secret of her dislike for using her own army.

Snoke looked upon his work, leaning back in satisfaction, until he had enough and gestured with his hand at Ren.

Ren stood up. His chair scraped against the floor.

The room fell quiet.

Satisfied, Ren sat down without another word. Hux watched him, both reluctantly impressed and envious.

“Your passion does you credit,” Snoke continued, unperturbed by the disruption. “It will serve our plans well.”

 _Yes, please address the strategies,_ Hux thought. _Let us see if this little plot is worth the pomp._

“We strike fast. We strike true. Stealth is our ally, as is our determination.”

_Yes, old man. You’ve said that already._

“We need only attack once. Our prowess will warrant nothing more.”

_What sort of prowess?_

“We are a fierce machine. And through fierce machine we will triumph.”

_For the love of…. What machine?!_

It was all Hux could do not to look around in dismay.

Was no one here going to ask these questions? Did no one here _care?_

They were all military men. How could they be satisfied with so flimsy a strategy?

“Are we to use guns, then, my Lord?” someone asked, finally. It was more eager than skeptical, but Hux was willing to take that gift horse with all of its rotted teeth.

“Guns are inevitable,” Snoke answered, voice soft and kind. Too kind. Hux was far too familiar with condescension not to recognize it. “However, I’m sure you understand that only a fool would not see what is required beyond those paltry weapons?”

The officer fell back on himself. “Of course. Of course.”

And just like that, Snoke had ensured that no one would be asking any further questions.

The rest of Snoke’s speech was the same symphony of flattery and rhetoric, with the occasional insult or threat slipped in. What it lacked entirely was substance.

Oh, granted, there were still more mentions of plots and strategies, some vague allusions to weapons or other forces, but no true picture came out of it. Vague, pandering, yet the gathered assembly took in this unimpressive Impressionist painting as if it were high art.

All around him, Hux saw nothing but self-satisfaction and unfocused eagerness. Each one of Snoke’s words made the room swell with pride and confidence. The few who paused and looked questioning soon became swept away by another wave of cheer.

There were all lapping it up like little pets expecting their supper; praise was their due and the wine they were happy to get drunk on. Hux wondered if the only reason he found it all so distasteful was because he had never had the chance to build a taste for it.

The only one apparently immune was Ren, who wasn’t even paying attention. His entire attention was directed towards something in his lap.

Straining his neck, Hux could see Ren’s open palm, an old gyroscope balanced on the tip of Ren’s fingers.

He sniffed in vindicated scorn.

The man couldn’t even be bothered to pay attention, instead choosing to entertain himself with paltry tricks from a low-grade carnival.

He was appallingly skilled at it too; the gyroscope was almost unnaturally still, perched on the very tip of his finger. Its loops weren’t even fully spinning, oscillating towards Snoke and Hux’s general direction.

Ren’s face was pinched in concentration – but no, Hux realized. It wasn’t concentration, but scrutiny, confusion, frustration all wrapped in a thin veil of melancholy.

How strange.

He hadn’t realized just how expressive Ren’s eyes could be.

So focused was he on Ren’s face he didn’t react fast enough when Ren’s eyes darted towards him. Their gaze met, and Hux was left trapped – caught staring, and still for some damn reason unable to look away.

The spell broke when Ren smirked at him, knowing and smug.

Hux looked away sharply, and pretended to be enthralled by Snoke’s speech.

**~*~**

The meeting was a short one. Once Snoke was finished speaking, no one in attendance was either willing or able to contribute. It didn’t take long for everyone to rise, though few headed home. Rather, most members simply went to the more lounge-like part of the room, opening the liquor cabinet and serving themselves generous amounts.

Hux was at the side, sitting on a leather chair with a glass of whisky in hand. For once, he was more than happy to be sidelined as he was. He needed to think.

The evening had been… informative. Disappointing as well, if only because of what it said of the country’s elite. Most here lacked any sort of conviction or enterprise. Snoke was an obvious exception, and Hux would wager the same of Ren. Beyond those two, the meeting had been an exercise in passivity.

Did he wish to associate himself with this group?

He took a sip from his glass.

Perhaps, yes. There was still an opportunity to be had here; the end goal could further his place in society far better than the years of petty intrigue and groveling he had expected from his future.In a way, it was far easier to simply rewrite society’s rules in his favor. Though he did not believe these men had the capability to bring that vision to fruition, they certainly had the material means and the eagerness to be of use.

And if he was to be the lone predator in a pack of sheep, then all the better.

That decided, he stood up from his seat, intending on mingling with the crowd and take the measure of what he had to work with.

He was surprised to find himself being approached instead.

“Major General,” he greeted the man as he came closer.

His superior was in a far more inviting mood than he had been last time they spoke; he was even smiling at Hux.

“Well then, what do you think?” he asked in a tone that implied far more complicity between them than was accurate. “A most noble enterprise, don’t you agree?”

“An ambitious one,” Hux replied diplomatically

“But not beyond your capabilities, I trust? It was no small risk I took in including you.”

Was he merely baiting for thanks, or did he truly have second thoughts? Either way, Hux would not pander to him.

“Great risks grant great reward,” was his sober reply.

The Major General nodded as if it were the height of wisdom. “True, true. You will do nicely, Armitage.”

Hux wrinkled his nose at the familiarity.

“I am very fond of this place. I have been coming here since my youth,” the Major General continued, obliviously absorbed by his own tale. “A true bastion of England’s greatness.”

“I had never heard of it before.”

“No, you wouldn’t have, I suppose.” There was a newfound thickness to his voice that stemmed from both liquor and its melancholy. It was a heaviness that echoed into his soul and eyes, which had lost their proud shine in favor of the veil of nostalgia. “It was at the height of popularity not three decades ago. And so very selective. Only top brass and Ministers could hope to attend.”

Hux looked around the room, dubitative but not unconvinced.

He supposed he could see the past glory, if he looked hard enough. What was now trite and cliched might have once been new and fashionable. The leather couches which looked worn-out might once have been simply well-used by London’s finest.

The men who stood here might once have been favored and privileged, rather than longing for the days when they were.

“The past is a better place,” the old officer said softly. “The best we can do is to bring it to life once more.”

 _Foolish sentiment,_ Hux thought. _Foolish man._

“These busts are all former patrons then?” he asked, more out of a desire to move the conversation along than true curiosity.

The Major General nodded. “Well-spotted. This establishment knows how to honor its benefactors.”

A dubious honor, Hux thought. The decoration was in horrible taste. “They are of superior quality.”

“Most of them were given by relatives. Or admirers.”

Hux nodded, thinking the prospect of free ornaments was a far more likely incentive for the establishment than a true loyalty to former patrons.

“I have made a contribution myself.”

Of course he had. “A family member?”

The Major General shook his head. “I have none worthy of the honor,” he said simply, walking towards a bust near the center of the display. He gestured it with his hand. “Lord Vader,” he stated, as if Hux couldn’t read the name carved beneath. His voice had regained its usual prideful tone, yet held some amount of deference. “I have met him, did you know?  Only once, when I was still fresh out of the Academy. There are few here who can claim the same.”

Hux hummed. “He was a recluse, I heard.”

“A fearsome man,” the Major General corrected,“who remained loyal to the country when the Queen herself had deserted her palace.”

It was strange to think that such political turmoil had happened only decades ago. The Queen nowhere to be found – always occupied or on some diplomatic journey. Some believed it to be the natural side effect from a monarch that threw herself into all the duties the Constitution allowed her to. Others whispered it was merely a lie to cover up the truth of a Queen in exile.

Prime Minister Palpatine had effectively become both figurehead and head of state, easily re-elected time and time again. He and his Cabinet were beacons of stability, the later remaining mostly unchanged after each election.

Until a new Minister was elected, and Palpatine’s sudden declining health forced him out of public service. Shortly after, the Royal Family made their return.

“Tumultuous times,” Hux said non-committedly. He took a sip from his glass, more than happy to let his interlocutor take the lead on this particular conversation.

The Major General did not disappoint. “During which the army was all that kept this Empire together. Even Vader couldn’t have accomplished half of what he did as Minister of Foreign Affairs without their support.”

Vader’s reputation was one of an incredibly undiplomatic man, yet one of great results: every foreign power he visited became either cowered into submission or almost unnaturally compliant.

“Yet, you donated a bust in his likeness,” Hux pointed out. “And not in that of a military officer.”

“He was a great man,” was the sober reply. “Who did not deserve the slander he received after his death.”

“Were you not echoing those slanders recently, Major General?” Ren’s voice came from behind them.

They both turned around to see the man standing much to close. It was uncomfortable for Hux, and he could only imagine it was worse for the Major General who was the sole focus on Ren’s unblinking gaze.

“I distinctly remember you praising his downfall as the salvation of Britain,” Ren continued, his low voice completely toneless.

“Lord Ren,” the smaller man greeted, his smile far too wide and far too stiff. “I hadn’t realized you had stayed behind.”

“Nor did you answer my question.”

The Major General gulped. “Those were difficult times.”

It was impressive how quickly such a pompous man could lose his composure. Were it not for his own dislike of Ren, Hux would have been incredibly amused.

“For him, certainly,” Ren said flatly. His eyes narrowed. “You became richer and higher ranked from his downfall.”

“Sometimes, a man must compromise to survive this cruel world.” It was not a very convincing reply, be it in its the lack of spine or in the shaky voice with which it was delivered. “I can do far more for his memory now than if I had defended him then.”

“And what have you done so far, besides purchasing a rock in his likeness?”

The Major General said nothing. Either because he was too frightened to or because he had nothing to say in his defense, Hux couldn’t tell.

Ren did not care, apparently. He smiled a tight-lipped, humorless smile that lasted for half a second before his face fell into its usual brooding mask. “You will leave us now.”

The Major General opened his mouth to protest, but closed it just as quickly. He left without another word.

Hux didn’t bother watching him go. He kept his eyes on Ren, who was lost in contemplation as he looked upon Vader’s statue.

“You are an admirer, I take?” he asked wryly, jerking his head towards the gaudy bust.

“I believe it is important to stand for those you claim to value,” Ren replied, unashamed and unwavering. “Moreover, Vader did much for this country as both General and Minister. The Empire would have been a greater place, were it not for his untimely death.” He finally turned to look at Hux, his expression surprisingly open and curtuous.“And what of you?”

“I have interest only for as long as his bust is before me,” Hux shrugged, taking another sip from his glass. “I care more for the works of Tarkin.”

“How unsurprising.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed. “Meaning?”

“You are a military man. You are drawn to military legacy. Though I am surprised a man of your ilk would fail to recognize the greater of the two.”

 _Ah, but it seemed Ren learned much from Snoke after all_ , Hux thought with a sneer. At the very least, he knew how to cloak scorn in thin praise.

“A sharp, military genius over a melancholic, disfigured Minister. The choice is easy enough,” Hux said, making no effort to keep the scorn out of his voice. “ _A man of my ilk_ knows which opinions to value, and which are useless.”

 _Yours is of the later category_ was left unsaid, but very much implied. Ren heard it well enough, and though he never let go of his taunting demeanor there was an edge of anger and hurt pride in his next words. “Yet you will have to get used to hearing mine.”

“Hearing, certainly. It is heading them that I can easily avoid.”

“You would be the only one. There is a hierarchy at work; where do you believe you stand?”

“I don’t care what influence you think you have,” Hux snapped. “Attack dogs inspire fear, but are not solicited for their input.”

Ren’s anger finally rose to the surface, but it was not the explosive kind Hux had heard such gossip about. No, this anger was cold, and sharp, and much like Hux’s own.

But where Hux would have bottled it up, let it fester like foul wine destined for poison, Ren lashed out immediately. “If I am a dog, then what do you see yourself as?” His eyes narrowed further, so scrutinizing as to be invasive. Hux felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, his pulse quicken, like the animal instinct in the face of unseen danger.

But no, he would show no reaction. Not even when Ren’s pursed lips stretched into a grin. Mocking.

Predatory.

“No, that is not the right question, is it?” he asked, weighing each word like a dagger he was about to throw. “I ought to ask: what do you desperately aspire to be? What sort of beast does this small animal hope to grow into some day?”

Hux made a move to leave, but was brutally halted by Ren grabbing his arm. His grip was so strong as to be near-bruising.

It was unacceptable. It was violence with neither strikes nor kicks.

Ren didn’t care; Ren expected no consequences.

“Was that too much?” the hateful man mocked, though the way he hissed his words betrayed the true anger simmering beneath the amusement. “Are you the only one allowed to show some teeth?”

Hux pulled his arm away, forcefully. It hurt as it escaped Ren’s grip. “I do not have to tolerate this!”

“Most say that at first.”

“I am not afraid of you.”

“Most say that as well.”

“I am _not_ most people.”

Ren paused at that, anger draining from his features as quickly as it had appeared. “No, you are not, are you?” he said contemplatively, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “It is refreshing.”

In that moment, Ren’s eyes were very much like Snoke’s: unblinking, appraising, looking at Hux as if he were an interesting specimen of a lower species.

It made Hux’s skin crawl.

“You think so highly of yourself.”

“So do you,” Ren remarked. “It is not unwarranted, however.” When Hux wouldn’t keep the surprise off his face, he elaborated. “You have a strength of character I seldom have the chance to witness.”

“I do not need pandering.”

“It is not.” Ren’s smile had vanished entirely, yet somehow his demeanor had never been friendlier – or rather, as friendly as one like Ren could be. “You are willfully unpleasant, but that is an easily forgivable flaw in the face of sharpness and competence.”

Hux could only stare. “You’re lying.”

It was the only option that made sense. The way Ren spoke sounded far too much like esteem to be anything else.

Ren shook his head, looking more amused than insulted. “Why would I do that? You have already made it clear that any flattery from me is unwelcome.”

He stepped closer then, far too close. Hux stayed his ground, pride forbidding him from taking even one step back. For the second time in too short a time frame, he found himself crowded by Ren.

Just like last time, his stomach flipped. Hux refused to believe it was fear; he was no coward.

Yet Ren was a broad man. Far broader than Hux. The strength of his arms was barely concealed by his well-tailored suit. He could so easily over-power Hux, manhandle him far more overtly than he had moments before. Were they not in public, he could very well do as he pleased.

Hux couldn’t tear his mind away from that thought.

“I look forward to collaborating with you, Major,” Ren whispered. Hux could feel his breath against his skin, hot and caressing. He ought to move; he didn’t. “For your sake, I suggest you get used to the idea.”

With a final smirk, he let go and walked away; the sea of people parted before him like the biblical stories of a rage-filled deity.

Hux watched him go. His heart was pounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter features some amazing art by GenerallyHuxurious! I particularly loved the style in which it was rendered - and lets face it, I love seing Snoke in those Victorian era clothes. ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to mousiesshi as always, for their amazing betaing skills!
> 
> No art in this chapter, but still feel free to check out the artist's work [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/)!

****

Hux put down the paper with a sigh.

Drivel, absolute drivel. All of it. Though Hux was by no means a staunch supporter of the current government, he recognized the article for the slander that it was. It was a wonder that the Government hadn’t shut down the printing office already.

Yes, yes, freedom of the press. A fine principle, but Hux still believed that discreet methods of elimination were often the better option. Had he been in her Majesty’s stead, he certainly wouldn’t have allowed such a nuisance to continue.

Nevertheless, this was the sort of content he would be forced to consume from now on. If only to keep tabs on their target audience. That the paper had remained in print for so long meant there were a fair share that purchased it regularly; Hux needed to know exactly what these people were told, and what they believed.

There would still be time after this to read his preferred papers. With that in mind, he turned the page, and settled into his seat as he read the next article’s title.

 

** YEARS AFTER THE FACT, LORD GREEDO MAINTAINS DRAWING FIRST BLOOD **

 

He put down the paper, pinching his brow. He was not awake enough to deal with this.

He reached out towards the little bell perched upon the coffee table. He winced as he shook it, the high-pitched sound a necessary evil. He hadn’t been in these lodgings long enough to install a more modern calling system.

For all its unpleasantness, the bell was effective. Mitaka stepped into the room a scant ten seconds later, bowing slightly lower than was strictly necessary.

“My lord?”

Were it anyone else, Hux might have been embarrassed at being seen in such a state of undress: no waistcoat, shirt not fully buttoned, his hair combed most summarily. But Mitaka had been his aide de camp before becoming his valet; he had seen Hux in far worse conditions, and had never shown anything but the utmost respect and deference.

 “Tea, Mitaka. Earl Grey,” Hux demanded, not looking up from his paper as he searched for a more palatable article. “Be sure to steep it the proper amount of time. We are no longer at war; let us live like it.”

Mitaka blushed, predictably. To his credit, it was the only element to his countenance that betrayed his fluster.  “Yes, my Lord.”

Hux went back to his paper as Mitaka exited the room.

It still confounded him how a man who had known the battlefield could still appear so easily overwhelmed. Oh, it was mostly a matter of façade – Mitaka blushed and stammered yet completed every task perfectly. Hux would never have taken him as a live-in valet otherwise.

Nevertheless, he truly hoped that the man would rid himself of that flaw. It was a shame to see such competence marred by such a lack of self-possession.

Mitaka returned exactly six minutes after he had first left – which meant he had brewed the tea a full minute longer than he had last time. Good.

Hux watched in silence as Mitaka poured him a cup. Familiar as he was with Hux’s taste, he didn’t bother with the purely protocolary milk saucer and sugar bowl before presenting the cup to Hux’s expecting hands. He took a step back, visibly holding his breath as Hux took his first sip.

“This will do,” Hux declared, settling into his chair“I did miss this.”

Mitaka hummed non-committedly as he put the tea pot back on the tray. “The tea is of far better quality than what we had on the battlefield.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “How would you know? I don’t expect a Corporal spent much time drinking tea.”

Mitaka blushed even more furiously than before, if it were possible. “Some of the higher officers didn’t finish their kettle, sir,” he explained. His voice was a near mumble, so strong was his embarrassment. “They didn’t notice if the men reheated their left-overs.”

Hux considered that information with some surprise; perhaps Mitaka had some boldness in him after all. “Well, much merit for resourcefulness I suppose. Though I can’t say much for your standards.”

“Yes, sir. Er… Captain. Major. My Lord.”

Hux smirked.

“I recently purchased a box of Breakfast tea that I don’t particularly care for. You are welcome to it, if you’d like.”

Mitaka’s shoulders sagged in relief. He even smiled. “Thank you, Lord Hux.”

He did not stay long after that, ever aware of the distinction between a cordial bond towards an employer and friendship.

Hux cast a longing gaze at the _Tribune_ before returning to the paper he had folded on his lap. He refused to let his reading go unfinished, no matter how unpleasant the experience was.

It was somewhat surprising to find that the rest of this journal was much like any other of its kind. After the first few sensationalistic articles the rest of the content was much tamer: reports on local issues and foreign affairs conveyed with only a moderate bias, announcements of births and deaths and a few letters from readers, half of which were thinly disguised job searches.

There was one small bit on page twenty-six that referred to a secret plot devised by magic users which… was at least partially correct, all things considered.

Hux was nearly done with the final page when he heard living room door open again, so roughly it nearly banged against the wall.

He frowned in irritation. “I did not call for you, Mitaka.”

“And that is why he dutifully did not come,” Ren answered, so smug in his sarcasm.

Hux’s head snapped up, eyes wide with shock and outrage as he took in the intruder.

Ren was standing in the doorway, spine straight and shoulders back as if he had every right to be there. His face was a picture of polite greeting, betrayed only by the hint of a smirk that graced his lips.

Hux rose to his feet, the paper falling on the floor as he did. At the same time, he saw Mitaka frantically rush through the door.

“I’m sorry, Lord Hux!” his valet cried out as he threw himself between them, as if he could bodily prevent Ren from coming any further. “He came at the door and demanded to see you!”

“And you let him in?!”

Mitaka paused at that. “… Yes?” he replied, sounding more confused than anything else.

Hux exhaled loudly. “We will speak of this later,” he promised. He had bigger issues to deal with than his servant’s lack of spine.

He turned towards Ren, who infuriatingly hadn’t moved from his place in the doorway. As if there were no hurry or concern to be had.

“What do you want, Ren?”

“To discuss our common interest. I know how impatient you are.”

“Impa…? I am not…!”

Hux cut himself off. This was exactly the type of reaction Ren wanted from him; the least he could do was refuse him the pleasure. Yet when he spoke again he couldn’t keep all of his outrage hidden. “You just decided to intrude in my home?! It is eight in the morning!”

“I was let in!” Ren protested. “And there seemed no better time to ensure that you were still home.” At Hux’s persisting glare, he paused. His traits shifted into a neutral mask. “I will leave if you wish.”

Hux had been too quick in qualifying Ren’s expression as “neutral”: an expressionless Ren still appeared aggressive. It was as if his features refused not to display an emotion, and Hux had witnessed more than once how those black eyes could mimic a predator’s when still and unblinking. He doubted Ren was even vying for that effect most of the time; it was simply the natural offspring of dark eyes and a dark soul.

And yet…

Those ever-expressive eyes seemed also incapable of deceit, and Hux could see nothing but honesty within them. It was echoed in the way Ren’s body was angled ever so slightly towards the exit.

Ren was sincere. How…. Unexpected.

Perhaps he had something for Hux other than scorn and threats.

“Well, you are here now,” Hux mumbled, not quite mollified but no longer willing to fight Ren over the issue. He sighed. “I was about to have breakfast, you are welcome to join.”

He paused. If he was going to be a host, then he would do it properly. But how does one even host one such as Ren? What sorts of habits would he have to accommodate? “What do you usually drink at this hour? Whisky? Beer?”

Ren stared. “… It’s eight in the morning.”

Hux was spared an embarrassing response when his guest turned towards Mitaka. “Some tea would be delightful.”

“I can prepare another kettle,” his valet offered meekly.

Hux latched onto the chance to put his misstep behind him. “Your preference, Ren?”

“Earl Grey, please. Steeped for four minutes. No need for milk or sugar.”

Hux raised an eyebrow at the highly specific and surprisingly tasteful order. As Mitaka left, he guided Ren towards a sofa across from his own seat, so that the table was between them.

“You are particular in your tastes,” he commented as Ren settled himself into his chair, looking perfectly at ease in what was, for him, an unfamiliar setting.

“No more than you, I would wager,” Ren answered with a shrug. “I used to travel, when I was a child. It developed my palate, if nothing else. India in particular had many spices to offer. I didn’t care for them much.”

“You went to the colonies?”

“My mother’s brother lives there. Lives in a temple among monks from whatever religion they practice there. I never cared much to learn about it; the meditations he demanded I partake in were more than enough to dissuade me.”

There was a heaviness to Ren’s words, one that spoke of much more left unsaid. Hux was unsure how to approach this situation – or even whether he had any desire or duty to.

“I had no idea Lady Organa had a brother,” he said carefully.

“Most didn’t.” Ren’s expression darkened slightly, though Hux was fairly certain it wasn’t out of anger towards him so much as at whatever unpleasant thought had crossed Ren’s mind. “It’s just as well. He is best kept out of the way.”

Mitaka entered the room with the second teapot, preventing any further question. Not that Hux would have pursued that line of conversation any further: he knew dangerous grounds when he saw them.

Ren and Hux watched as the valet poured the tea before placing the cup in Ren’s expecting hands.

No one said a word as Ren took his first sip. Hux hoped that Ren’s potential displeasure wouldn’t result in a broken tea set.

Mitaka looked vaguely ill.

“It is perfect,” Ren said graciously, gently placing the saucer back on the table. “Thank you very much.”

Mitaka was so shocked he could only manage a hurried bow – one that somehow conveyed a stutter – before leaving with the look of a young recruit having survived his first battle.

“He seemed surprised,” Ren remarked, turning towards Hux. “Do you not praise him enough?”

“I praise him as is proper for an employer, let alone a former commanding officer,” Hux retorted. “It is you that is the issue.”

“Me?”

“Your physique. Your demeanor.” Hux gestured towards Ren’s body to illustrate his point. “You do not pass for someone capable of positive feelings, let alone gratitude.”

“Good.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Not for most, at least.”

“We are not most people.”

“No, I suppose not,” Hux conceded. He took another sip from his cup, watching over the rim as Ren did the same. Those large hands were surprisingly delicate around the thin porcelain handle. “You know, I half expected you to have broken something expensive by now. On purpose, even.”

“I do know how to behave,” Ren huffed. “I choose not to.”

Hux smirked. “Yes, that much is clear. My furniture and I thank you for your restraint.”

Ren huffed again, though this time in humor rather than in irritation. “You should try smashing things one day. It’s cathartic.”

“I once broke a boy’s nose, back at the Academy. Does it count?”

“Did you feel better for it?”

“Yes.”

Ren shrugged. “Then there you have it.”

He looked away then, his eyes drifting towards the window. His eyebrows were furrowed in deep thought, his hands worrying the edge of his teacup. It all added a heaviness to what might have been a light-hearted mood.

Then again, the man radiated an air that made light-heartedness almost impossible. Oh, Hux had certainly seen Ren amused, joyful even – the episode at the ball came to mind. But something about him exuded an intensity that was nigh-omnipresent, that echoed into everything he did. Every stare. Every emotion.

Every outburst.

“You think I’m nothing more than violence in a velvet coat,” Ren blurted out, turning back towards Hux to look him straight in the eye. “It isn’t true.”

Hux was too startled by the absolute earnest in Ren’s voice to give a biting reply. “I am sure I’ll have ample opportunity to discover that for myself.”

Ren didn’t answer. He took another sip of tea, aggressively so, if it were possible to drink tea in such a manner.  It gave Hux the impression that he was using it to muzzle himself.

It might have been an accurate; Ren appeared very frustrated at himself.

Hux could not begin to understand him.

“Why are you here, Ren?”

He might as well ask directly; maybe then there might be some light shed on the man who had been forcefully inserting himself into Hux’s existence. 

Ren’s frown deepened for a moment, but quickly smoothened into something approaching calm. “To answer any question you might have after our gathering at the _New Imperium_.”

Well, it seemed Ren was capable of straightforwardness after all. It didn’t stop Hux from pursing his lips in suspicion. “That’s generous. Extremely generous, especially towards one who is still a new recruit.”

“But perfectly reasonable towards one of the leaders of our little coup.”

Hux stilled. “What are you implying?”

“You know exactly what I meant. Do not make yourself to be less intelligent than you are.”

“There are many others involved in this plot. All of them my seniors and my superiors.”

“You are worth all of them combined, and then some.”

Ren’s words hung in the air between them as Hux repeated them in his mind again and again, trying to sniff out any trace of mockery.

He found none.

“You are serious,” he said slowly, leaning back into his chair. He had enough self-control to keep his tone from turning the statement into a question.

 “You’ll find that my sense of humor takes on a different form entirely.”

“And what form is that?”

“A cruel one,” Ren replied, before adding in a lower voice: “There is little point in being cruel to you.”

“For a shared cause,” Hux said after a moment of silence, for it was the only rational explanation behind Ren’s comment.

“Yes, that as well,” Ren said almost distractedly. Before Hux could add anything, he returned to the subject at hand. “Your seniors, your superiors, the only worth to them is that they are a crowd. There is strength in numbers, but that strength means little if it is an army of sheep.”

“I was disappointed by them,” Hux confessed; it was safe to do now that Ren had voiced his scorn first. “I was raised to think highly of our military forces – with mitigated success. It pains me to think that even the cynical view I held was an idealized version of the truth.”

“That would depend on whether you considered them as soldiers or as men. They are comfortable enough with military tactics, but political? Not so much.” Ren huffed a mocking laugh. “They want the change that is offered, but very few are willing to shoulder the responsibility and blame for the plan. Easier to compliment and give out orders; they are satisfied, kept in line, and exactly where we want them to be.”

“Why are you telling me this? It is not that I disagree, but I would have thought you would wish to be more cautious before speaking so ill of my peers in my presence.”

“But you are not like them. You want details, and you want to lead. I see no issue with that.”

“What of Snoke?”

“Has resources. Influence. But he cannot do everything on his own.”

Fair enough, Hux thought. And all the easier for him to seize greater power later on. “So what is the plan then?”

Ren leaned back into his seat. “What is your opinion of the Queen?”

As a general rule, Hux disliked _non-sequiturs._ Nevertheless _,_ he answered calmly. “She is the Queen. That is enough to inspire positive sentiment. Though for the rest, I admit I don’t have much of an opinion. I know not her character, and her politics are entirely the fruit of her government – which I personally do not care for.”

Ren hummed thoughtfully. “Most in England would say something similar. The Queen was well-liked in her youth, but has largely faded in the background since her return from exile. It makes her a distant figure at best, an unknown quantity at worst. Her government fares little better – the Reform Acts may have extended the number of voters, but the vast majority never even meet those they send to Parliament. Such beings are easily framed to be enemies.”

“Turn popular opinion against them then?”

“In essence.”

“To the extent that our coup will receive popular support?” Hux raised an eyebrow. “I do hope you plan goes beyond publishing a few unflattering articles.”

“Not even particularly slanderous ones?” Ren asked sarcastically. “People do not act upon ideas or sentiment. They do react to threats and confirmed danger. Buildings crumbling; key landmarks threatened. Striking images that lead to striking reactions.”

Hux hummed thoughtfully. “So we stage an attack on our own soil. This is growing more and more treasonous by the minute.” He picked up his tea cup to take another sip, and grimaced when he found the beverage cold. He wiped his lips as he next spoke. “I assume someone else will take the blame; no one will support us otherwise.”

“Any foreign power is a viable scapegoat. Lord knows England had its enemies,” Ren said with an eyeroll. “That destruction is only a means to an end. The true battle will come afterwards. People will wonder: how could such a thing happen? Why?  And why has the government done nothing?”

Hux nodded in understanding. “And then we come in.” He hummed thoughtfully. “It could work, I suppose. Though I would have the Queen and her government in our first strike; the power vacuum will make our ascension that much easier.”

For the first time since the beginning of this conversation, Ren showed signs of discomfort. “The Queen is harmless. She has no power.”

“She is a symbol; that is all the power she needs.”

“There are other ways to silence her, if need be. She went into exile once.”

“And came back from it,” Hux huffed. Why was Ren so protective of the old woman? She was nothing but an obstacle as far as they were concerned.  “She will speak against us if she stays alive. Her voice will carry enough weight that our legitimacy will be threatened.”

“How do you think Snoke managed to get so many to follow him?” Ren retorted, speaking louder than necessary to make certain Hux wouldn’t interrupt. “He has a way with people. And he knows how to exert his influence – something the Queen has proven reluctant to do. The military gives us the might we need to seize power; Snoke can make sure we keep it.”

“How very reassuring,” Hux scoffed. “Even if I were to accept that answer, there are too many grey areas in your plot. How do you plan to land such a massive blow, let alone anonymously?”

“I know what you truly mean to say, and you are correct: we cannot. Not with the resources we have. Lord Snoke believes that innovation is the way forward.”

“ _Innovation_ ,” Hux repeated mockingly.

“You are an engineer, are you not?”

“I studied it,” he said, sounding far more defensive than he wished to. “I did not practice it as a trade.”

“What we need doesn’t exist. We both know it. So I ask: can you invent it?”

“Can I invent some vague device of slightly less vague purpose, in an uncertain deadline and of ambiguous range?”

“Honestly, Major. Your constant skepticism doesn’t make you cleverer,” Ren said with an eyeroll. “Any conceptualizing requires the consideration and solving of practical issues. It is part of the engineering process, and that you, the would-be-lead of this project, would be the one to direct it is a reasonable decision!”

“It helps if I have a better notion of what I am aiming for,” Hux snipped back. “I know next to nothing of the resources you have at your disposal, of our timeframe at my disposal. The sole tool I have is what you have shared with me today, which is hardly more than a concept and a heavy dose of optimism. How am I supposed to accomplish anything in such conditions?”

Ren smiled then. A sly, enigmatic, truly infuriating smile. “That depends entirely on you.”

Well of course. It wouldn’t do for Ren to hold a conversation without some amount of dramatics.

“How so?” Hux asked, trying not to sigh and debating whether this conversation truly warranted such efforts in restraint.

“You know our cause. We require your full commitment to it,” Ren answered, still infuriatingly vague. “Only when we have your word can you be entitled to more details.”

“An oath of loyalty. How quaint,” Hux snipped. When Ren gave no further reaction, he continued, with his eyes narrowed and his tone accepting no compromise. “Had I not seen value in this endeavor, I would have already denounced the lot of you to Scotland Yard.”

“That I do not doubt. I have known it since your first time at the _New Imperium_. But if you are to lead, if you are to be trusted with the details of our plan, then I need to know you have the stomach for it.” Ren leaned forward, eyes boring into his. “If you have any qualms, I suggest you voice them now. And trust me, Lord Hux: if you attempt to deceive me, or think to betray us, _I will know._ ”

Ignoring the obscure threat, Hux held the man’s gaze, ignoring the light ache in his head. “I back down for nothing.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed for moment, then his features relaxed all at once. He leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied. “Good. I hadn’t expected any less of you.” He looked around the room. “Details can be shared in a more secure location.

But Hux had demands of his own. “And then, I expect to be informed of every detail. I expect every aspect of our operation to be to my satisfaction, else I will go no further. I will _not_ jeopardize my entire future on smokescreens and empty promises.”

Ren considered his words with a hum, before nodding. “Fair enough,” he conceded. His lips pulled into a grin. “You can even add your own strategic expertise, if it would make you more comfortable. You will be at the front of the pack; it would be well in your right to lead it.”

Hux nodded, somewhat mollified. “A weapon to bring down a government. It is unheard of.”

“Innovation, Lord Hux. Our times are brimming with it,” Ren teased, his grin growing wider by the minute. It wasn’t an unpleasant sight. “Do you back down from a challenge?”

Despite himself, Hux bristled. “Never.”

“I thought not. That determination will serve you well. You could be the next great mind to find posterity.”

“Supposing there are enough people left after our coup to write history books,” Hux shot back, his mind drifting back towards the weapon that was demanded of him, and the destruction it would bring. “There will be casualties.”

Ren paused, his teacup halfway to his lips. He looked otherwise unaffected. “Yes.”

“Necessary, I know,” Hux elaborated. “Still, the aftermath will be a hassle to deal with.”

“At least the Underground Tube will be less crowded,” Ren quipped. 

Hux felt the corner of his lips twitch. “You use that horrid thing? How unsurprising.”

“It is incredible fun!”

“It is terrible! Filled with people and trapped smoke.” Hux exaggerated a shudder. “Better keep to a coach.”

“Have you ever even used it?” Ren challenged.

“Of course I did,” Hux replied easily, finding his own features matching Ren’s open amusement and surprised to see that he didn’t care. “On my return to London. I am as curious as any other.”

“Then I assume you at least recognize the achievement! Travel times are reduced tenfold! In the streets as well, now that most of the congestion has been dispersed!”

“Yes, I suppose,” Hux conceded, but then added for the sake of argument: “The constructions were a nightmare though. A great trench cutting through London. The city completely paralyzed while she healed from that wound.”

Ren opened his mouth to reply, but paused as a perplex look washed over him. “The war against the Russians started two months after the first shovel was bought and ended a month after the opening.” He let out an astonished laugh. “Of all the shows of bad faith… What nerve you have in complaining! You weren’t even in London during the construction!”

Caught in his fib, Hux camped more firmly on his positions. He leaned back in his seat, smirking in an willfully exaggerated display of self-satisfaction. “And that is why it was such a nightmare.”

Ren laughed more openly at Hux’s quip. It was a peculiar sound, striking in its candor but also its… subdued nature. Hux couldn’t quite call it shyness, or even fragility, but there was something there. Barely visible even when Ren’s guard was down, and an added brushstroke to Hux’s mental portrait of the man. A portrait that had only grown more complex and more blurred the longer this conversation lasted.

Hux truly didn’t understand Kylo Ren, but couldn’t help but strive to anyway. 

He scowled at himself for his own thought. Where did such sentimentalism come from? A few days ago, the idea of socializing with Ren would have been nightmarish. Hux hadn’t thought himself to be so fickle as to change opinion after one conversation.

He shouldn’t let his guard down yet… He knew next to nothing of Ren’s true motivations.

Ren’s expression shifted at Hux’s sudden change in mood. He let out a sigh that was both frustrated and forlorn. “Why are you so determined to dislike me? You have no reason to, save some admittedly tense conversations that were hardly the most antagonistic either of us had.”

“This one is going rather well,” Hux evaded, resisting the urge to squirm in discomfort. He toyed with the spoon in his teacup, stirring it to keep his hands from fidgeting.  “There is hope for you yet.”

“I will not grovel for your companionship. Though it is a shame, since I do believe I might enjoy it.”

“We’ve barely spoken.”

“Yet it was enough for you to form an opinion of me.”

Hux had never been inclined to justify his own behavior, never cared enough about another’s opinion to do so. He didn’t understand what it was in Ren that compelled him to explain himself anyway. “You act… disorderly. Entitled.” He huffed. “It infuriates me, how little you care of propriety or the safeguard of you station.”

“Is it because you are a bastard?”

His teacup slammed against its saucer.

His first instinct was to stand. To tower over Ren, push him back.

Order him to leave. _Scream_.

Anything that might help release the mounting rage and dread, because Ren knew. He knew, _how_ did he know, who had told who, what did he -

Hux took a breath. Released it slowly.

His hands were gripping the edge of his seat, his blunt nails almost tearing the fabric. There was nothing to be done about that.

“How dare you?” he hissed, in the most venomous tone he could summon.

And Hux had such venom to share.

Ren, damn him, looked completely unaffected. “Well, it is true, isn’t it?”

It was pointless to deny it; Ren wouldn’t be fooled. “How do you know this?” His voice rose as he spoke, despite his best efforts to cling to his composure. “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?”

“Answer my question, Ren!”

“I haven’t told anyone. I have no plans to.”

“ _Ren_!”

He didn’t know what it was that finally go through to Ren: the volume of his voice, the tone, the look in his eyes which must have been bordering on hysteria. Whatever the case, it ripped the flippancy away, finally pulling an answer out of Ren.

“I found out on my own,” he said. The pitch of his voice made him sound as if he were appeasing a wild animal, an impression made stronger by the way his hands were raised in placation. “Your secret is safe.”

For a moment, all Hux could do was stare. Then he turned away, walking towards the window. The oblivious passersby were a much more palatable view than Ren’s casually destructive and so alien amiability.

Years upon years he had kept this secret, weaving upon the lie reluctantly uttered by his father when Lord Hux realized had no true heir left. From the age of fourteen, Hux’s life had been a finely tuned machine of deceit bent on rewriting his past and safeguarding a future his blood should not have allowed for. Any mention of the past had quickly been banned in the Hux estate. Any unrefined accent or low-brow behavior had been swiftly corrected by Lord Hux’s belt or Armitage’s own self-discipline. Hux had excelled at any task thrown at him, had be exemplary during his time in the Academy even as he knew that his father secretly wished for him to fail.

He had done all in his power to make his future so shinning, so bright, that none would be interested in looking into his past.

And all that effort gone to waste, reduced to nothing by a man casually sipping tea.

Hux rested his forehead against his arm, pressing it against the glass. There was little point in holding onto his composure when it had been shattered so completely.

“In truth, I almost envy you.” Ren’s voice came from behind him, half-musing and half-cajoling. “Were that I was a bastard myself; it would cleanse me of half of my parent’s blood.”

Hux couldn’t help himself: he laughed. His laughter was short, harsh, bordering on a hiss. It was not a kind sound, but Hux was not a kind man.  “Spoken from a true place of privilege.”

“This isn’t privilege. This is perspective.”

“Is it?” Hux replied, slowly turning on his heels to face Ren again.  “The life given to me – the life had toiled so hard for - was only built upon my family name – and such fragile a foundation it is. Ready to be shattered at any moment, and I must guard it every second. Always on alert while others my own age carry on with oblivious ease.”

“Yes, I know. I can see it. How sharp it has made you. How deadly.” Ren stood up, walking towards Hux even as he continued to speak. “A poisonous blade, ready to strike.” He stopped a full meter away from Hux, but that distance was easily crossed by the fervid intensity of his words. “You think I scorn you for your birth; it is quite the opposite. You have accomplished far more than any other would have in your position. You still have much before you. Honesty demands that I recognize how impressive it is. Though through your belligerence you seem reluctant to inspire any good will towards you.”

“I could say the same,” Hux replied automatically. His mind was still locked on Ren’s speech, that onslaught of _praise_ that was so foreign, so unexpected that Hux knew not what to make of it. All he knew is that, once again, Ren had left him with his heart beating far too fast and far too strong.

“It doesn’t matter, in the end. Whether we are liked or not,” he stated finally, tonelessly, taking a shaky breath as he fell back on of the eternal certainties in life.  “All that matters are our goals, and the power that we seek.”

Ren smiled. He look almost relieved. “You understand.”

 _And now you have power over me,_ Hux thought, surprised at the sense of resignation that came upon him. He had thought there would be more anger within him. However, it seemed that though Ren was an expert at summoning Hux’s ire, Hux could never quite hold onto it with the ease he was accustomed to.

Ren inspired far too many emotions to remain focused on just one. Hux preferred not to dwell too long on that thought.

But the fact remained: Ren knew. Hux could do nothing about it. For the first time in years, his future was not in his own grasp.

And what to do now? He didn’t know. He had spent so long trying to avoid this very situation that he had never given thought as to what he would do should it occur anyway.

With each further second, Hux felt his resignation morph back into dread. He hated it.

He couldn’t stop it.

“Would some leverage on my own family help?”

Ren’s question cut through the fog that had begun coating Hux’s mind. It pulled his focus back on the present, on the room he still stood in and the man who was looking at him with surprising patience.

“Pardon?”

“You think I’m going to use this against you,” Ren elaborated. “I am giving you ammunition to shoot me with should it happen. Do you want it?”

It could be a ruse. Before this morning, he wouldn’t have thought twice before coming to that conclusion – back when Ren was nothing but an uncouth man with too much privilege and too much daring.

But now? Ren had subverted all of Hux’s expectations. Cordial, agreeable, _flattering._ And when looking back at their previous interactions, Hux could recall no instance of true belligerence on Ren’s part save for when Hux had voluntarily provoked his ire. Ren had been overbearing, unconcerned about boundaries or anything other than his desire to speak to Hux when and how he wished to.

Though Hux wish to hold on to his previous, simpler views of the man, there was a growing faction of his mind that whispered that _maybe_ Ren was sincere. That _maybe_ Hux could trust him just this once. _Maybe_ again in the future.

This wasn’t letting his guard down, he told himself. It was merely adapting to the situation. “Yes.”

“Then consider this: Han Solo is not the respectable merchant he presents himself as. He has had many dealings with smugglers and criminals, a fact that was stifled when my mother wished to wed him.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t care what happens to him.” Ren’s voice was hard. “I have distanced myself from him as completely as I could. So high above that whatever scandal hits him could not possibly attain me. Sentimentally, that is,” he amended. “My mother still has her influence, and is incredibly protective of her family – myself excluded, of course. I am the only one who is liable to reveal that family secret; there will certainly be retribution were it to come out. So there you have it. Your leverage.”

Hux considered the information carefully. If Ren was indeed telling the truth, then this knowledge could indeed bring ruin upon the Organa family. Hux wouldn’t even need solid evidence; the mere rumor would be enough to launch others into finding it for him.

And he had given it away without a moment’s hesitation.

“I will not hesitate to use it, should it suit me.”

He didn’t know why he was saying this. It was completely non- strategic, almost reckless in its lenience. When has he ever given an adversary proper forewarning?

But then again, Ren wasn’t quite an adversary anymore.

“I know.”

 _You do, don’t you?_ Hux thought.

It struck him them how completely unrestrained he had been with Ren. How naturally he shed the restraint and pomp social interactions called for. For, indeed, it was the only way to be able to match Ren in conversation, he who so easily devoured the meek and the polite.

And it seemed Ren relished the opportunity to spar with an equal. He had received all of Hux’s true nature. His viciousness, his ambition, his spite, and even his blood.  And after seeing the full of it, Ren had treated him with more consideration than Hux had seen him give anyone else.

Hux truly didn’t understand him.

“Well, many thanks, I suppose,” he finally said, when the silence had once again gone on for too long. He cleared his throat.  “More tea?”

Ren shook his head. “I’ve had my share.”

Neither of them returned to their seat, leaving them to stand in the awkwardness of their newfound truce.

“I am glad we came to an understanding,” Ren said softly, and though it was most likely merely to fill the silence, he once again sounded surprisingly honest.

“I suppose there are better positions for you than as my enemy.”

Ren shook his head at Hux’s reply, looking almost fondly amused at the evasion. “One could argue that this calls for a toast,” he said, eyeing the liquor cabinet in the corner of the room.

Hux raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought eight in the morning was too early for such things.”

Ren shrugged.  “The occasion calls for it. And the tea is cold.”

Hux found he didn’t wish to argue with that logic. In a few strides, he had reached the liquor cabinet. He poured whisky in two crystal glasses, before offering one of them to Ren. “And what should we toast to?”

Ren smiled. “I’ll let you choose.”

Hux pondered the question for a moment, and raised his cup when inspiration struck.

“To family then.”

Ren smirked, eyes sparkling as he raised his cup in turn.

“A most sacred thing,” he replied with a cynicism that so resemble Hux’s own that Hux couldn’t keep himself from smiling into his cup.

**~*~**

A week later, Hux found himself in the train headed for Arkanis.

Ren had ended up staying most of the morning, mostly under the pretense of discussing logistics. It was a rather sterile conversation, given his great affection for being purposefully cryptic. Hux found him to be much more verbose when it came to arguing. Hux didn’t know if it was a general habit with him or one only revealed when  in Hux’s company, but Ren seemed to turn every topic into a debate that was just shy of a verbal row. Modern inventions to history to literature, there was no limit.

And he argued well. It was evident that Ren was a highly educated man – nothing surprising, considering his background. Hux had been reluctantly impressed, and, if he were honest, more than a little self-conscious: Ren’s education had been much more well-rounded than his own, and it showed.

Hux hadn’t admitted as much, of course.

Ren had left shortly before noon, courteously not imposing himself for lunch. They had made no plans to meet again – though Hux expected that with Ren, there would be more unexpected visits to anticipate.

Now that Hux had fully committed himself to the cause, he needed to get to work. It had been quite some time since he had done any sort of higher-level engineering, but hopefully he hadn’t lost the mind for it.

That new commitment was the cause for his trip back to Arkanis. There were some papers and tools he had left in the old Hux mansion, fully expecting never to use them again now that he was a confirmed officer. Hux would need a couple days to sort through them and parse out which ones he would bring back to London.

The train ride was not unpleasant. There were very few people travelling in this direction at this time of the year, as it made little sense to leave London during the Season, and Hux relished in the solitude. Mitaka and himself were the only people within the compartment they had settled themselves in. Added to that that Arkanis was much further North than most would find palatable, and Hux exited the train to a largely empty platform.

The case he had packed for the trip was small enough that he could easily carry it on his own, but Mitaka had insisted on taking care of it. Unburdened, Hux made his way for the exit without further delay. As he was about to step onto the street, he was approached by a young boy in brown clothes and a cap. The clothes were in a good enough state of repair that the child didn’t appear to be a beggar or a thief, so Hux cautiously let the child come closer.

“Lord Hux, sir?” the boy asked. He stressed the title carefully, obviously having been coached multiple times to include it in his greetings.

Hux raised an eyebrow at the use of his name. “Yes?”

“Telegram for you, sir,” the boy said, handing him a slip of paper.

Hux narrowed his eyes, taking the offered bill gingerly. “How did you know to find me here?”

“T’s on the bill, sir,” the boy explained as Hux looked down.

 

_KINDLY GIVE THIS BILL TO THE REDHEADED GENTLEMAN EXITING THE ELEVEN O CLOCK TRAIN FROM LONDON._

_I MEANT TO VISIT YOUR HOME ONLY TO FIND YOU ABSENT. YOUR HoUSEKEEPER HAS INFORMED ME YOU WERE HEADED TO ARKANIS. RETURN IN TIME TO ACCOMPANY ME TO THE CRYSTAL PALACE. MY CHAPERONE IS TERRIBLE COMPANY._

             _PHASMA_

 “Aren’t many people getting’ down at this stop. You wasn’t – weren’t! – hard to spot.”

Hux gave him a pound in lieu of an answer. It was more than enough for the boy, who took it with eager hands before running back to his employer.

He stared at the telegram a moment longer. Such a long message must have cost a handsome sum, yet Phasma had obviously sent it without a second thought. All for the sake of requesting his company, admittedly in an extremely forward manner. 

It was… flattering, to say the least. Hux expected to have to wait for the next formal ball before being permitted to approach her again. How nice to find evidence of being so appreciated.

Ah but it wouldn’t do to get sentimental. They were still only acquaintances after all.

Still, it was pleasant news. Hux allowed himself a smile as he continued his way.

It was fairly easy to find a coach to take him to the Hux estate. It was a short trip through the country side, one that Hux spent looking through the window at a once familiar view.

Arkanis was a grey place. From its sky to the stones on the road, to the moss that covered the trees and few houses passed along the way. Even from inside the carriage, Hux could feel the humidity that clung to the air, the after effect of a near perpetual rain. Not even the wind could brush it away, especially at this time of the year where the large gusts were replaced by gentle breeze. Always cold air, however.

His father had always said that such a climate would be the end of the sickly slip of a boy.

When he arrived in front of the estate, there were no lines of servants waiting to greet him. It was to be expected, given the rather informal nature of his stay. Hux looked forward to the day where his every visit would be greeted with pomp and ceremony.

Still, his arrival hadn’t been completely ignored: as he climbed the couple steps before the entrance, the door opened before he even knocked. Someone had been waiting for him.

Hux smiled at the man in the doorway, who still stood tall and straight despite old age.

“Lord Armitage,” the family butler greeted, smiling as he stepped back to let Hux in. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Winston,” Hux said with a genuine smile. “It is good to be back.”

“Your room has been prepared,” Winston said as he took Hux’s coat from his shoulders whilst Mitaka busied himself with the luggage. “I have opted for the chambers on the second floor, but I can easily arrange a transfer to the Master Bedroom, if it is your preference.”

“I am certain you have chosen wisely. You are a credit to the profession, Winston.”

“Thank you, my Lord.”

Winston was the veteran among the household servants, having begun his service shortly after Hux had turned fourteen. Hux hadn’t been in the mansion often then, still burdened by his father’s efforts to bury his bastard into anonymity.

Nevertheless, Hux was very fond of the old man. He had been nothing but respectful when Hux returned as the only viable heir of the Hux estate. Hux suspected that the butler knew the truth of Hux’s blood, but had never commented upon it nor had treated Hux has anything other than the future master of the house.

In fact, Hux was certain that Winston preferred him to the old man that was currently his employer. Most servants here did.

“Is my father available?”  Hux asked distractedly, fixing the lapels of his jacket.

“He is in the dining room,” Winston sniffed. “He hasn’t quite finished his midday meal, I am afraid.”

“I see.” Hux put on an expression of concern. “I best go see him then.”

Winston was not fooled by the pretence, but again, Hux was his preferred master. He merely inclined his head and gestured towards the dining room, before retreating to his own affairs. 

When Hux entered he saw his father installed at the head of the table, the lush wooden seats replaced by the wheelchair that he now spent most of his time in. Though his limbs still functioned, he was often too weak to walk further that a couple meters. The only time he stood now was to climb up and down the stairs from one wheel chair to the next, and even for that he needed someone to support him while he paused midway and coughed up his lungs.

Hux had seen that particular spectacle a couple times. He was extremely fond of it.

His father, whose features were permanently frozen in a frown, openly glared.

“Please, my Lord,” the serving girl pleaded, a spoon of mashed greens still held mid-air. “You must eat to keep your strength.”

“Do not worry, Mary,” Hux said, putting on a benevolent smile as he entered the room. “I shall take care of it.”

The serving girl squeaked at the sound of his voice, rising from her seat to give a hurried curtsy. “Lord Armitage!” she said, blushing furiously. “Forgive me, I had not heard your arrival.”

“It is of no trouble,” Hux reassured. “You were occupied, and it is an incredibly important task you have been entrusted with. There are few I would trust with it as fully as I do you.”

Mary blushed again, but this time her eyes shined with pride as she took in Hux’s praise. She was so easy to please. Hux distantly hoped that eagerness would not cost her in the future: she was a nice girl.

“How has he been faring?”

“Well enough, my Lord,” she answered demurely. She glanced at Lord Hux, worrying her lips with her teeth. “Though his appetite has been diminished as of late.”

Hux tutted.  “That won’t do at all. We cannot let him wither away.” He turned towards his father with a gentle smile that he knew Lord Hux would see as the condescending sneer it truly was.

His father sneered back. Hux could almost taste his frustration at being talked about as if he weren’t there. That knowledge alone added much sincerity to Hux’s smile.

Beside him, Mary look mortified, unsure how to handle her charge’s rudeness. Hux put a hand on her shoulder, making a soothing noise as she turned her attention back towards him.

“I will take care of it Mary.”

“Oh, my Lord, I couldn’t -”

“Nonsense. You deserve the rest,” he cut her off gently. He looked away, feigning bashfulness as he murmured his next words.  “And in doing so you would allow a son to care for his father.”

Mary’s expression softened visibly at that, and then it was as if she couldn’t leave the room fast enough. She made quick work of wiping the silverware clean for Hux’s use and fluffing up the cushion on the seat before excusing herself with a deep curtsey.

Leaving Hux alone with hisfather.

“Good afternoon, father,” he said primly, smiling wide as he installed himself in front of him. “I trust you have been well.”

Lord Hux glared at him.

“Ah, yes,” Hux murmured, raising his hand to trace along the scar on his father’s throat, the price of an imprecise surgeon performing too difficult a surgery. The headrest on his father’s seat prevented him from recoiling at Armitage’s touch. “The cancer. Still going strong, then?” Hux sighed. “It is so sad to see modern medicine reach its limits."

He picked up the bowl of food – mashed greens, judging by the color. He took a purposefully overfull spoonful of the green mush and raised it to his father’s lips. “Open up.”

Lord Hux pinched his lips tight.

“Now, now, don’t be difficult. You know mashed food is all you can eat now, no use complaining.”

Not that his father could. The surgeon had succeeded in removing the tumor, but had also taken a sizeable part of the vocal chords along with it. All of his father’s protest would be nothing more than weak hisses.

“Suit yourself,” Hux said when his father continued to refuse to be fed. He didn’t put the bowl down however; he wasn’t quite done with this game yet.

“I have some terrific news, Father. Would you like to hear it?”

His father’s glare darkened further.

“Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t. Confidentiality and all. You understand, I sure,” he said airily as he raised the spoon to his father’s lips again.  “You were always so particular about keeping everyone in their place.”

His father turned his head to avoid the spoon; Hux saw the gesture coming but ignored it, resulting in a trail of mashed vegetables being smeared on his father’s cheek.

“Oh dear, how clumsy of you,” Hux tutted. He reached out on the table, picking up the pristine white napkin that had been left on the table. “Don’t move.”

He hummed thoughtfully as he whipped his father’s face, distantly lamenting that the napkin wasn’t made of rougher material. “Some would say this is a role reversal, but I don’t think you ever took care of me as an infant.” He dropped the napkin on the table. “You’ll forgive me then for limiting my filial duties to feeding you. I know you already have assistance in bathing yourself and pissing.”

“Where was I? Oh yes, confidential information.” He shrugged. “I doubt upcoming events will affect you much, forever confined to this mansion as you are. But I suppose some forewarning will do no harm.”

“I’m moving ahead, Father. To heights you had never imagined, limited little man that you are.”  He stood up then, if only to be able to stare his father down more literally still. “I hope you live long enough to see how much your better your bastard revealed himself to be. But perhaps the tumors will suffocate you before then.”

He left without any further word. His father left out a wheezing, dying sound; he must truly have been furious.

Mary had been waiting for him in the kitchen, loyal girl. She rose from her seat as he entered the room.

“He is in quite a mood today, isn’t he?” he said, schooling his features into a mask of worry. “I hope this is not the beginning of some trend.”

“I am certain it will pass,” she said consolingly. “My grandmother often had a fluctuating appetite. It is common among the elderly.”

Hux eyed the stairs, humming thoughtfully. “Perhaps he should be put to bed, Mary. Rest would do him good.”

Mary, of course, could not have agreed more. After a few more words she excused herself, and set off to do as Hux had suggested.

His father would protest, to be certain; but the servants would remain firm, for it was for their Lord’s own good.

Hux smiled as he left the room. Perhaps he would go visit the gardens next? It had been a while since he has last seen them – and now that he was back, and his father even more decrepit, he could begin to rearrange them to his taste.

Behind him, he could here Mary gently berating his father as the old man balked in front of the stairs.

It was good to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone knows how to write in several columns on ao3, let me know! I've spent ages trying to find a way to format the newspaper section at the begining! ^^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to moussiesshi as always, for her huge support in betaing this fic!!!!  
> Again, no art in this chapter - but there will be some more coming soon! -, but please check out the artist's work [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/)!

If there was one thing Hux hadn’t missed during his time as the front, it was the smell of the city. Not that wartime didn’t have its foulness – a couple thousand men with little sanitary amenities allowed for little else.

But a couple thousand was nothing in the face of the couple _million_ London housed. Though the Great Stink that occurred less than a decade ago finally motivated Parliament into renovating its sewage system, constructions were still not fully finished. Hux, having spent most of his youth smelling the moss and rain of Arkanis, could not imagine living among such an abysmal failure of public health.

He ought to have taken a Clarence rather than a Hansom Cab. Though a Hansom provided swifter travel, being the smallest and more agile of the two, the Clarence was fully closed off rather than open at the front.

But there was nothing to be done now, he thought somewhat ruefully. At least his driver was efficient enough bypass most of the main arteries in favor of streets with less traffic.

With nothing better to do, Hux once more straightened his coat lapels and readjusted his bowler hat. He was not often prone to such nervous gestures, but the prospect of meeting Lady Phasma in a less than impeccable state was a thoroughly unappealing one.

As the cab came to a stop – sometimes traffic was unavoidable – Hux reached inside his coat to check at his pocket watch, a family heirloom he had taken much joy in stealing from his father.

No, he berated himself. Not _steal._ This watch was his by right.

And it slipped from his hand as the cab was suddenly jostled. The driver yelped, even as a deep voice ordered him to open the door.

Hux was appalled to see the driver obey. He was even more appalled to find two men rushing into the small compartment, taking a seat as the door once again shut behind them.

“What the…. Not again!” Hux yelled. “Ren!”

Ren ignored him entirely as he sat himself next to Hux. The size of him would have already been more than enough to fill the small compartment; but with three men it was entirely too tight a fit, and Hux soon found himself squished between the edge of the cab and Ren’s obscenely muscled frame.

“How do you do?” Ren greeted, completely nonchalant as he pocketed his gyroscope back into his jacket.

“Um… Good day, sir?”

“Mitaka?!”

Though Hux could not get a clear view of his valet, hidden behind Ren as he was, if he leaned forward enough he could see Mitaka shaking in both fear and absolute bafflement at his own predicament.

And Ren remained the picture of calm. “I meant to announce myself at your door, but found you already gone by the time you arrived. It is our good luck that London is such a small city.”

“Explain yourself!” Hux demanded, glaring at Ren when he opened his mouth. “No, not you. What is the meaning of this, Mitaka?”

“It… It is as he said, my Lord.” Mitaka would have probably squirmed in discomfort, were there any room to do so. “He announced himself ten minutes after your departure. Upon learning of your absence, he said I was to help him identify your coach.”

“And you did?!”

“… Yes?”

“I managed most of the way on my own,” Ren chimed in.  “But there are so many carriages here, moving so fast. I needed someone to point me towards the correct one.”

“That is all very well,” Hux said through gritted teeth.  “But it certainly doesn’t answer the question as to what the hell possessed you to highjack my carriage and disturb me!”

Ren turned to blink at him. Hux refused to believe that his mildly hurt expression was anything more than a pantomime designed to irritate him. “I wished to see you. Is that so hard to believe?”

Hux’s heart – no, no, his stomach – lurched at the admission. “And it could not have waited even a moment?” he forced himself to say despite his suddenly dry tongue.

“It could have,” Ren conceded after a moment. He added as a feeble explanation: “I didn’t want to.”

Well, that was Ren in typical form.

Hux sighed heavily, pinching his brow. “The world does not bow to your wishes, Ren.”

“Say, rather, that you don’t.” Ren bit his lip. “Will you tell me to leave then?”

Hux ought to. Ren’s behavior was completely outrageous, plainly unacceptable, and it was vital to both Hux’s pride and his strength of character.

“I am to meet the Lady Phasma,” he found himself grumbling instead. “I suppose we’ll see if your brazenness goes so far as to impose your company upon her as well.”

Ren’s features lit up like a thousand flares, the mere possibility of an afternoon with Hux making him look radiant. Hux pretended not to find the sight thoroughly satisfying; he would rather focus on his righteous indignation.

On the other side of the carriage, Mitaka was hyperventilating.

“Oh, do relax, Mitaka! I am not going to throw you out in the middle of the street.”

Mitaka did not relax, but his breathing did diminish in volume.

They continued their trip in silence – save for London’s noise and Mitaka’s perpetual terror. Hux was direly tempted to elbow Ren in the side on general principle, but refrained for he didn’t put it past Ren to topple over the cab if startled.

Instead, he opted to stare out onto the streets of London, trying not to regret his decision whenever a sharp turn further compressed him against the edge of the cabin.

“So-”

“No, Ren.”

When they finally arrived at the Crystal Palace, Hux directed the driver towards the previously decided meeting point. Their cramped cab received surprisingly few looks as it navigated through the crowd, thankfully enough.

Hux took a moment to admire the view, as discretely as he could less he appear overeager. He had never had the opportunity to visit the Crystal Palace before, and as such had never been able to fully appreciate the marvel of engineering and architecture it truly was. A massive construction of meal beams and glass panels, stretching over ninety thousand square meters, sturdy enough to withstand the elements of the seasons yet still appear as elegant as fine glass on a chiseled frame, Hux could only marvel at the calculations that went into the design of such a titan. The indoors were just as impressive, Hux knew, with a large transversal hall decorated with fountains and trees, and several galleries branching out from there.  It was a remarkable sight, one that never failed to draw the masses - and Hux would wager a year’s pay that none of them appreciated the ingenious placement of grids and hidden mechanism that allowed for the evacuation of the hot stale air that came with both summer and their presence.

Yes, Hux was very glad to have been given this place as a meeting point. That he was meeting someone of such esteemed rank was an added reason to his good mood.

Lady Phasma was a difficult person to miss, even among the crowd, for reasons that went beyond her size. She was a striking figure in her military inspired dress, a style that happened to be in fashion but that Hux suspected the Lady favored either way. The rest of her outfit was hardly fashion forward, with skirts not as full as her peers and the fabric a light grey color rather than the currently ubiquitous purple. 

Still, those elements of relative minimalism did nothing to mar her stature. There was a confidence and aura to her that outshined any Lady that had the misfortune to stand beside her. Hux liked to think it was the result of her military education.

Next to her was an old woman – her chaperone most likely. A probable old-maid, demurely dressed, who raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips at the sight of the three men huddled together. Hux resisted the urge to glare at her.

“Good afternoon, Hux!” Phamsa greeted as Hux descended as gracefully as he could. She allowed Hux to do his greetings before gesturing towards Ren. “You bring unexpected company!”

Hux’s smile was only slightly stiff as he answered, “Lord Ren expressed a keen interest in the following us on our visit today. Since you are the ringleader of our expedition, I thought it best you have final say in the manner.” He turned to glance at Ren. “If you wish for him to leave, he will gladly comply.”

“Hopefully not before you grant me the honor of greeting you,” Ren said, stepping forward. He gave Phasma a most cordial, painfully charming smile that held a roguish edge to it. He didn’t break eye contact as he took Phamsa’s offered hand. “If only to say that I caught a glimpse of the Lady Phasma, I would consider the afternoon well-spent.”

He bent down in an absolutely faultless _baise-main;_ Hux felt inexplicably furious.

Phasma, for her part, looked more amused than anything else. “Well, if a man such as Lord Ren wishes to join, then it would be a delighted to have him along.”

“My Lady!” the chaperone cried in outrage.

Before Phasma could reply, Ren took three rapid steps towards the old woman. For a brief moment, Hux thought he might devolve into violence, but instead Ren merely hovered over her, sweeping his hand through the air. It was an incredibly odd gesture, but it happened too fast for Hux to comment upon it.

“You will not worry about our presence,” Ren spoke in a confident tone. “The Lady’s virtue is safe in our hands.”

He turned on his heels immediately afterwards, ushering Phasma and Hux away. Mitaka followed, looking painfully uncomfortable.

Ren had placed his hand between both their shoulder blades, and Hux fully expected the old chaperone to physically pry them off if necessary. Yet when he turned around, he spotted her a respectable distance behind him, briefly struggling with herself before her expression smoothened once more.

Phasma must have witnessed the same, for she let out a most unlady-like whistle.

“Oh, I do believe I will keep him around.” She turned towards Ren. “How did you do that?”

Ren shrugged. “I tend to intimidate people.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen old Miss Faringham intimidated by anyone before,” Phasma retorted, sounding somewhat bemused.

Ren nodded. “She wouldn’t be, if she is to act as your chaperone. So many men to fend off.”

Hux raised an eyebrow at that. He had of course heard rumors regarding Lady Phasma’s late night activities – his former classmates had been eager to regale him on the details, trying to sound condemning but unable to keep the envy and longing out of their voices. Be it because of her rank or the absolute lack of evidence to back such claims, Phasma’s reputation had never truly suffered. Nevertheless, it was unspeakably rude for Ren to bring up the matter, especially in such a cavalier way.

However, the Lady did not look offended in the least. In fact, her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“What are you implying, Lord Ren?” she asked with a smirk. She brought a hand to her chest in mock offense. “My reputation is pristine.”

“Unlike my own?”

“The words you put in my mouth are not mine to bear,” she responded airily.

Hux let the two of them banter whilst he glanced over his shoulder to look at Mitaka. The poor valet was dutifully following behind them, for lack of any other instructions.

Ren spotted his movement and turned towards Mitaka as well, seemingly remembering his presence for the first time that afternoon.  “You can go now,” he said, waving his hand to shoo him away.

“Actually, he might as well stay,” Hux interjected, keeping his tone only somewhat biting.  “Since _you_ were the one who dragged him along in the first place.”

In normal circumstances, Hux would never have even entertained the notion of having a mere valet accompany him all day. But he would be damned if Ren didn’t learn boundaries!

“And who is he?” Phasma asked, granting Mitaka an appraising look that was far kinder than what Hux expected. “I hadn’t wanted to ask in front of old Faringham.”

“My valet.” When Phasma raised an eyebrow, Hux sighed heavily.  “Ask Ren.”

“Or maybe I can ask the concerned party directly,” she stated instead. Taking a step towards the valet, she had to tilt her hand down as Mitaka was significantly shorter than her. “What is your name?”

“Dopheld Mitaka, my Lady.” Mitaka’s blush was a potent thing, and he eyed her extended hand as if it were a vicious trap ready to reveal itself. When he ignored it in favor of giving her a military salute – Hux suspected that choice was born out of pure panic giving way to instinct – Phamsa smiled even wider.

“And tell me, Dopheld,” she all but purred. “How did a valet come to be invited to the Crystal Palace along with his master?”

“Well, uh… I served with him against the Russians, and… well…”

“Oh, do I intimidate you too?” She smirked. “I thought that a man who took on the Russians would be made of braver stuff.”

“I could shoot the Russians, at least,” Mitaka blurted out, before blanching at what might have been an inadvertent death threat. “Oh dear…”

Phasma let out a startled laugh. “Hux! Where did you find this one!”

“He did not find me,” Mitaka retorted, his blush taking on the hint of wounded pride. He straightened himself, tilting his chin up as he spoke. “I volunteered in the Queen’s army, and was assigned to his service through merit.”

It was the first time Hux saw Phasma looking so chastised; he would wager good amount it didn’t happen often. “Of course,” she said. “You have my sincerest apologies. It was not my intent to diminish you.”

“It would take more than that to diminish me,” Mitaka said, mollified and soothing – and how daring of a valet to claim to absolve nobility! “As you said, I have fought the Russians.”

“Well, no Russians here,” Phasma said, elegantly accepting the olive branch by changing the subject. She gestured around them, pointing out the ever packed halls of the Crystal Palace. “Only a crowd to match their army.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. It is true there were far more people than he would have expected.  “Is it always this crowded?”

“Charles Blondin is set to perform,” Phasma explained.

“Who?”

“That French funambulist. It is why I wished to come in the first place.”

“Ah, well that could be a sight!”

“His act debuts at four o’clock,” Ren pointed out. “We still have some time until then.”

Phasma hummed thoughtfully. “There is a new feature presenting the Italian Renaissance.” 

Hux wrinkled his nose in distaste. Maratelle Hux had thought herself a patron of the arts, and a keen scholar on all things pertaining to the sixteenth century. Neither were accurate, but Brendol Hux had indulged her anyway. It had been enough to permanently cure Armitage of any interest in that era, to the point of a near-visceral repulsion.

When he glanced at Ren, he found him bearing an expression very similar to his own. He didn’t know if it was childhood trauma or something else that made Ren share his distaste, but he was glad for the solidarity.

“Or perhaps not,” Phasma said flatly. She pointed her fan accusingly towards Ren. “I thought you would be more interested in the arts. You are a published poet, after all.”

“We both know the value of that volume lies within the provocativeness of its content rather than the quality of its writing. My publisher wanted the scandal and the publicity, not the claim on works of the next Bard. ” He shrugged. “I don’t mind. I only wrote it to see what would happen.”

Hux’s mind supplied unsolicited images of himself in his mid-twenties, blushing furiously as he read Ren’s poetry in the middle of the night – a book he had brought in secret, terribly ashamed of himself even as he gave money to an infuriatingly placid librarian. The whole book was littered with deviant themes, from gambling to opium to other activities Hux could not believe were allowed to be published.

There was a reason Hux read them in the middle of the night, and only when he was alone. The imagery, though not graphic, was… highly suggestive and after so many years devoid of intimate company, Hux had been… highly receptive.

Oh lord, the mere memory was too embarrassing for words!

“Well, I do hope you were satisfied,” he mumbled.

“I found it all went over rather well.”

“You were nearly banned entry in the Brook’s club!”

“As I said. Rather well. I don’t know why they wanted me banned. I have never been in the first place.” He startled then, eyes widening as he spotted something in the distance. “Oh!”

Hux turned to follow his line of sight. His eyes settled upon a sign, which pointed towards the Crystal Palace Gardens.

_“Geology and Inhabitants of the Ancient World. Described by Richard Owen, FRS. The animals constructed by B.W.Hawkins, FGS”_

Ah, yes. Hux had heard about that particular reconstruction. Ever since the first fossils had been discovered, it seemed all of London couldn’t get enough of the prehistoric age, with its ancient animals and even more ancient dinosaurs.

Ren’s intent was clear, though why that particular display had caught his attention Hux didn’t know.

Phasma smiled.  “Oh, why not? It has been an age.”

“The same for me.”

“I have never been here before,” Hux said idly, fully unexpecting Ren’s sharp turn towards him.

“Really?” he said with wide eyes. “Why ever not?”

“I didn’t have the time.”

“No time for dinosaurs?!”

“Yes, Ren,” Hux replied drily.  “Surprising as it may seem, I had more pressing matters to attend to than travelling to London to see the most likely faulty depiction of a long extinct reptile.”

“Oh then you must see it! If only to better criticize it later!”

Ren’s enthusiasm was exuberant, but when Hux tried to summon some irritation at such over-eagerness, he was surprised to find that he couldn’t. It was an additional stroke to an increasingly complex portrait, this boyish enthusiasm that was so alien to Hux. And it wasn’t… unpleasant, really.

Besides, Hux rationalized, Ren would most likely not be deterred. Best follow him before he took Hux by the hand and dragged him along.

Hux quickly pushed away that thought.

As they made their way towards the display,Phasma offered her arm to Mitaka, who looked at it with wide eyes before gingerly taking it. Behind them, Miss Faringham emitted a high pitch moan, but did not act any further.

The reconstructions were spread across the Crystal Palace garden, which would have been a pleasant walk in its own right. Nevertheless, the sights of ancient animals being displayed upon various islands in man-made lakes was an entertaining sight. Hux was pleased to find several signs bearing descriptions and scientific facts concerning each beast, and took his time reading them even as Ren wished to pull him towards the bigger models.

Though granted, Hux did enjoy those reconstructions the most. He would never admit as much to Ren, of course.

Their little party lingered near one of the larger lakes, where one could admire the [_Ichthyosaurus_](https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ichthyosaurus) along with the _Teleosaurus._ Mitaka, for some reason, seemed particularly entranced by the aquatic beasts, and Phasma seemed more than happy to indulge him. Hux suspected the near-apoplectic look on the long-suffering chaperone had something to do with it. Or perhaps she just liked the way Mitaka blushed whenever he remembered that they were still walking arm in arm.

Hux did not mind either way. This was a pleasant spot, the tree granting just enough shade so that he could comfortable lean on the barrier beside the lake, enjoying the view without suffering from the rays of sunshine reflecting upon the water’s surface.

“This was my favorite place to be, when I was younger,” Ren confessed as he leaned on the barrier beside him. “I knew nothing of Darwin’s findings, or the significance of his new theory. I merely enjoyed seeing immense lizards.”

Hux considered the view around him. His father would never have brought his bastard to such a place, but had he been able to see these reconstructions when they were just unveiled… Yes, Hux could conceive that they would have caught his imagination. “I might have enjoyed it as well. I would have wanted one as a pet.”

Both Phasma and Ren laughed at the casual admission. Even Mitaka, discreet as he tried to make himself be, looked openly amused. It made Hux tense, but the lack of any biting comment soothed his defensiveness.

“You truly are the keenest mind of the generation,” Phasma said in between her chuckles.

“What would have done with it?” Ren pressed. “As I recall, reptiles aren’t the most affectionate creatures.”

Hux smirked. “Who said anything about affection? I would have unleashed it upon my enemies.”

“That would require a big dinosaur.”

“Nonsense. My dinosaur would be small and deadly,” Hux retorted, too embarrassed to admit that his preference would have been the largest model available.

“Like you.”

Before Hux could decide whether he should be flattered or insulted by the comment, Phasma spoke up: “I would have liked the _Hylaeosaurus._ I heard they were armored. Useful if we are going to send it against our enemies.”

“Have we decided that was the best use for a pet dinosaur then?” Ren asked, turning towards her.

Hux shrugged. “I am fine with that. Do you have a better idea, Ren?”

“Quite frankly, Hux, the notion of any idea superior to a pet dinosaur seems impossible to me. What you or Lady Phamsa would then do with it is a detail.”

“That is very much your problem and your failing,” Phasma deadpanned. “Lord Hux’s methods won us a war. I would trust him with a dinosaur.” She turned towards Hux then. “Who would you set it upon?”

“Half of London, I should think,” Hux replied immediately. After a pause, he added: “In a comprehensively classified list.”

Ren laughed at that. Hux smiled in satisfaction.

When they finally returned from the gardens, there was still nearly an hour left before Blondin’s performance was set to begin. None of them were particularly keen on simply waiting for the time to arrive, and so started a debate as to which display to visit next. (Mitaka, expectedly, did not participate, though he had grown comfortable enough to nod in approval to a few suggestions.)

Hux’s eyes were set on a display titled: _'The Egyptian Court in the Crystal Palace. Described by Owen Jones, architect, and Joseph Bonomi, sculptor'._ Ren had no strong opinion on the matter, having already been thoroughly satisfied by the sight of those dinosaurs.

“There is no reason for all of us to remain together at all times. You men go if you wish. I believe I will go see the Renaissance display after all,” Phasma decided.

She left with Mitaka in tow, having requested that he escort her. At this point, Hux’s valet seemed both bewildered at being involved and resigned to simply enjoy the afternoon while it lasted.

Hux let them to it. Phamsa was obviously amusing herself with whatever game she was playing, and if she wanted to run the risk at being seen with a mere valet, then who was Hux to stop her? Most likely she would prove as impervious to scandal here as she had before, and Hux would not have to dismiss a good servant over this.

Though really, it wasn’t as if Hux was well known enough that the London rumor mill would recognize Mitaka as his valet, or even care very much. Phasma was truly the only one with anything to lose from her behavior.

With that decided, he made his way towards the Egyptian court reconstructed, Ren following close behind him.

As soon as he set foot in the first hall of the display, Hux was awed by the scope of it. Palm trees and other exotic plants placed near indoor pools, much like what Hux imagined an oriental garden would look like. The little spots of greenery were surrounded by large white walls covered in complex, paint-like ornaments – hieroglyphs, Hux recalled the name – with small entrances through which additional rooms could be spotted.

The opulence of the reconstruction hadn’t stopped there, for the halls were paved with statues or lions, sphinx and different humanoid creatures – Ancient Egyptians gods, Hux learned from the booklet Ren had bought before entering. And at the very end of the hall were two statues of incredibly height, easily tens of meters tall, nearly blocking from view the Crystal Palace’s intricate glass and metal ceiling. They depicted two figures Hux could only assume were royalty.

Hux and Ren slowly made their way through the display. This time around, Ren was more than happy to let Hux set the pace and the trajectory of the visit. He patiently waited for Hux to have inspected every nook and cranny of each room, thoroughly reading the information provided by the pamphlet before moving on to the next room. They ended up lingering the most in the room containing the mummy. Ren made no comment on Hux’s fascination with this morbid display of posterity, something Hux was quietly grateful for.

Eventually, they circled back to the massive statues Hux had first spotted upon entering. The booklet confirmed that they indeed portrayed rulers. It was, apparently, a fairly common occurrence for great constructions to be built in their honor. The pyramids in particular would be a fascinating sight, Hux thought.

It was inspiring, in a way. The fervor a ruler could summon from his subjects.

“They say their kings were considered gods.” Ren murmured beside him. “Can you imagine, to both rule and be worshipped?”

“I could do without the later,” Hux replied, his eyes leaving the statue in favor of Ren. “Though I suppose it would make the job easier.”

“We seek to remake the world in our image. Is that not divine?” Ren let out a wistful sigh. “Ah, would that we could simply summon a flood. How easy then to re-establish the rightful order.”

“Next thing you’ll tell me is that we would require only seven days to do so.” Hux rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t deny that the thought held some appeal. “It took months to build this place, and this kingdom spans only the side of a room.”

“Well, if we were to do away with the massive statues, we would be more time efficient.”

“I like the statues. Let us keep them.”

Ren hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should. That is how civilizations endure, even after their fall.”

Hux nodded. “It is surprising, how such an ancient and archaic culture could build such imposing constructions.”

“They are rather breathtaking, especially in person.”

“You have been to Egypt then?”

“One of the last voyages my father deigned to invite me on. He told me stories of ancient tombs and treasures; I had begged my mother to let him take me along. She finally relented under the argument that I would learn from such a different culture.” Ren’s lips pulled into a humorless smile. “Of course, my father ended up spiriting me away from my classes more often than not. He wished to make an explorer out of me.”

“Did it not succeed?”

“He gave up on that ambition shortly after my tenth birthday.”

There was much left unsaid, Hux could tell. However, it seemed crass to push for more; Hux of all people could understand the tight bond between disappointment and fathers.

“Well, it is just as well,” he said, the reassurance an unfamiliar and uncomfortable weight on his tongue. “The life of a scruffy adventurer would have suited you ill. You are capable of higher stuff.”

“Those  may be the kindest words you have ever said to me.”

“Do not get too comfortable. I still hold you to be a deplorable excuse of a civilized being.”

“To be frank, Hux, you are hardly any better than I am. You just put more effort to appear so,” Ren retorted, his lips twitching in amusement.

Hux raised an eyebrow. “You have a surprisingly strong grip on your emotions. I expected you to fall into a rage just about now.”

“You’ve said so before.”

“Then it bears repeating. Your tantrums are legendary. I do not know what I have done to be exempt from them, but consider me grateful.”

“I enjoy being around you. Even in your scorn, you are delicious.”

“I do not scorn you.”

“Oh.”

“And I am not… delicious.”

Ren’s grin took on a predatory edge. “Well, I suppose I haven’t tasted you yet,” he said lowly, winking before turning on his heels, making his way towards the next room in a careless stroll.

Hux stared at him, mouth agape. Ren couldn’t have… did he _just…_

He could feel the blood rush to his cheeks, and he did his best to fight it down because he wouldn’t give Ren the satisfaction. His comment was… gratuitous, meant only to fluster Hux. Beyond improper, downright _lewd,_ and in such a public setting. _Anyone_ might have heard, and at that thought Hux could not fight down his blush any longer.

Of course Ren would not understand the value of discretion, unlike Hux. Ren most likely flaunted such behavior; it was known he attended disreputable establishments. Hux could easily imagine him at home in such places, in unkempt clothes, attempting to seduce other patrons with his broad frame and deep voice and -

Hux wouldn’t even think of it. He would ignore it entirely.

He repeated the words to himself as he followed Ren in the next room. The mantra was a _basso continuo_ even as he forced himself to read the information pamphlet. The room they were in was a reconstruction of some temple or another, with an altar-like structure surrounded by many rows of columns. Hux had little mind for religion, and found that he had even less patience to focus upon it now.

He was about to say as much to Ren when he eyes settled on a most dreadful sight.

Lady Thanisson and her friends were slowly maneuvering themselves and their incredibly large skirts between the columns. Her eyes were set on Ren with a predatory gleam, and Hux’s mind supplied the image of the Lady at the ball, her breathless blush as she drank the sight of Ren.

His stomach lurched.

Before he could think any further, he joined Ren in three quick strides and non-to-subtly pulled him towards the exit, fast enough so that Lady Thanisson would not be able to catch up without running after them, something propriety absolutely forbade her from doing.

Ren let himself be pulled away, though he did nothing to hide his amusement. “Who is it we are avoiding?” he asked, voice low enough not to be overheard.

Hux considered denying the claim, but knew in the next moment that it would be pointless. Too obvious a lie, and Ren was no fool.

“Lady Thanisson,” he half-mumbled, knowing it was a childish way to admit to childish behavior.

“And what has the Lady Thanisson done that we are avoiding her so openly?”

“Let us just say that she would be on the list.”

“Which list?”

“The dinosaur list.”

“Oh?”

“It is petty, really.” Hux sighed in frustration, pinching his brow. “I have had but one conversation with her – though admittedly an interminable one.” His lips curled into a sneer at the mere memory. “Mediocre, yet condescending. Limited in all her prospects, yet still self-congratulatory. The quintessential London Lady, really. She saw me as an inferior to grace with her presence and toy with, and I am not yet in the position to show her just how wrong she is.”

“I see,” Ren replied, nodding his head. “Do you wish for me to publicly humiliate her?”

“Ren!” Hux berated, more out of reflex than anything else – the more time he spent with Ren, the more he vered into a permanent state of disapproval. However, he paused a few moments later, truly considering the offer. “Could you?”

“I could find a way. And I doubt my reputation would suffer much for it. It is difficult to do much worse than getting nearly banned from the Brook’s club.”

“I… will consider it.” It was a strange offer, strangely straightforward and strangely considerate. Hux shook his head in dismay. “You are an outrageous man, Ren.”

“I know.”

“It is good to know that you will be vexing someone other than me.”

“I have vexed many people.”

“Yet somehow you seem to be concentrating your efforts upon me these days.”

“…Perhaps.”

“Oh, perhaps? Then _perhaps_ one day you might explain why,” Hux said, voice dripping in sarcasm. He didn’t push when Ren didn’t respond.

It was almost time for the performance, so the two of them quickly left the exhibit to reunite with Phasma. The agreed upon meeting point had been the back of the main hall, a location which in hindsight lacked some level of specification. Though the Lady was easily spotted from afar, the crowd did make matters more complicated.

When they finally found Phasma, she was near the very end on the hall, beyond the large fountain that occupied the middle of it. It took some effort joining her, as they were forced to go against the flow of the crowd. When they finally succeeded, Hux was surprised to find her alone.

“Where is Mitaka?”

“He is off to buy us some tickets for the performance.”

“You should have told us they were needed, I would have purchased them in advance,” Hux commented, unpleased at the lack of foresight. He hadn’t concerned himself with the logistics, confident that Phasma would have had it taken care of. “There may be none left.”

Phasma hummed non-committedly. “I told him we would wait for him here,” she said, in lieu of a true response.

An odd choice, Hux thought. There would have been several more comfortable or practical locations to wait, from the tea parlors to near the ticket booth itself. As it was, the spot Phasma had found for them was almost hidden from view, strategically placed behind two large decorative statues and off the main path towards most displays.

Hux’s eyebrows furrowed. It was as isolated a location as one could manage in this place. Phasma had, for all intent and purpose, sent Mitaka away – and Lord knows what she did with that chaperone of hers.

There may be nothing to it. However, Hux couldn’t shake off the feeling that it all seemed rather orchestrated.

“The look you give me, Lord Hux.”

It was the smugness in her tone that confirmed his blossoming suspicion. “I know a ruse when I see one, especially one so ill-disguised. You wanted Mitaka gone. You placed us in one of the few locations where we are not at chance of being overheard. What is it you wish to say?”

“I am sure you can guess.”

“I am sure I do not know,” he retorted easily. “I would hear it directly from your mouth.”

“Shall I be the one then to name that secret plot of yours?”

Hux opened his mouth. Closed it. Breathed out heavily and turned to glare at Ren. “I would have thought better of your capacity at secrecy, Ren.”

“It wasn’t me,” Ren replied through gritted teeth. His eyes narrowed, projecting an aura of both anger and deep concentration as they bore a hole into Phasma. “How did you learn of this?”

For the first time, Phasma looked uncomfortable. She rubbed her temple as beads of sweat began forming there. Her voice lost none of its steadiness, however. “I have close friends in the military. They often try to impress me.”

Ren rocked back on his heels, seemingly satisfied.

Hux refused to be so easily mollified. “How close are these “friends”?”

The look Phasma gave him portrayed exactly what she thought of Hux’s question. “Intimately close.”

Of course, Hux thought bitterly. A woman with Phasma’s background would pick her lovers from the military. “What did you hope to achieve, telling us this?”

“An honest relationship?” Phasma drawled. “I certainly wasn’t planning on _blackmailing_ you. There is little you can do for me, Lord Hux. But I would rather there be no deceit between us; our friendship wouldn’t last long otherwise.”

“ _Friendship_ ,” Hux repeated, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is that what this is, now?”

“Why not? You think amiability and self-interest are mutually exclusive? Just look at you and Ren.” Hux opened his mouth to object out of principle, but she ignored him entirely. “I am very fond of you Hux, but this posturing is tedious. I could see the gears turning in your head when we first met, conversing with me even as you parsed out how best to utilize this new connection of yours. I wasn’t insulted; I know how the game is played. And you were skilled enough that you could plot and hold pleasant conversation at the same time.” She paused, giving him time to digest her words before concluding in a flat tone: “Your pride is bruised. I suggest you move on from that feeling, and fast; we might still have a pleasant afternoon.”

Her words rankled Hux far more than he wanted to admit, which only went further along into proving her point. Yet still he wanted to deny every word, though he recognized the truth in them.  It had been a long time since he had received such a dressing down, and to have in happen in front of an audience, in front of _Ren_ seemed like too much of an affront to bare. He would not -

No, no he would not be so childish. He would not let _pride_ get in the way.

That was a mistake for lesser men who had so brittle basis for pride that it would shatter upon the first blow.

“You are harsh, my Lady,” he said finally, before sighing. “But not wrong. I - Oh, wipe that smirk off your face, Ren!”

Ren did nothing of the sort. “I didn’t think you were the type to admit to overreacting. I am impressed by you character.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Hux snapped. “I am not in the mood for it. Least of all now. Least of all by _you._ ”

Ren’s face fell, smugness replaced by shocked hurt and hurt remorse. Hux didn’t know if it was the bite in his voice or the flash of anger in his eyes that had affected Ren so. Either way, he didn’t care beyond Ren’s chastised tone as he murmured: “My apologies.”

Hux turned back towards Phasma. “We will discuss this another time. I still do not approve of this ambush.”

“Believe me, I would not have resorted to it had I felt I had the option,” Phasma replied, nose wrinkling in displeasure. “But without months of courtship between us, there would have been little chance for both of us to be in a private setting. And from what I heard, there was finally some progress to be had with this plot – progress that coincides with your arrival. I needed to act fast. I seized the first opportunity I found.” She shrugged. “ _Stealth and complexities are luxury paid for in time; a keen strategist known not to strive for what he cannot afford”_

Hux snorted. “Quoting Tarkin, again?”

“Why shouldn’t I? I have learnt nearly everything from my great-uncle – and what valuable lessons they were! Tarkin forged this country, along with Palpatine and Vader, and never have we been stronger than under their regime. England’s greatness came from her army. And She has forgotten that – just look at the way she treated you upon your return!” She pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t have necessarily chosen this route to remind her. But as it is already set in motion… Well, I’ve always prided myself in my practicality”

“And if you poise yourself to ride the success of this operation, whilst cleaning your hands of any direct involvement should it go awry?”

“As I said – practicality.” She shrugged. “I should thank you, really. My _friends_ finally have something new to brag about. It was getting tedious, pretending to be impressed by the same stale news.”

Despite himself, Hux let out a chuckle of dismay and admiration. Ah, but the Lady was fierce! “You are waisted as an observer. You could be a leader in your own right.”

“I am talking to you, am I not? To be close to the rising power is leadership enough.” She shook her head. “But no, I am not interested in being a figurehead.  I wield enough power as it is.” She smirked. “My _little troopers_ are eager to please.”

It was then that Mitaka returned, only to be greeted by the sight of three members of nobility suddenly cease their conversation to stare at him.

“I am terribly sorry,” the valet said, turning slightly pale. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Ren answered with a perfect affectation of casualty. “We were discussing Lady Phasma’s many lovers.”

Hux exhaled heavily. Phasma looked at Ren, thoroughly unimpressed but not particularly shamed.

Mitaka blushed, but lifted his chin in defiance. “You mean to embarrass me. I am not so easily sent stammering.”

Phasma turned towards him, eyes shining with interest. “ _Really_?”

Mitaka held her gaze. “There are some conversations I would not have in front of my employer, my Lady,” he replied, and for all of the politeness in his wording and posture there was a hint of a tease in his voice.

“That is enough of that!” Hux said sharply – though he did note that Ren’s intervention had distracted Mitaka from asking any further questions. “Where is Miss Faringham?!”

“I… She had been threatening to force Lady Phasma home, in light of her… inappropriate behavior,” Mitaka admitted timidly. “So I told her Lady Phasma had gone to visit the Grecian display. I don’t imagine she will return any time soon.”

Oh for the love of… How could it be that Hux’s chosen association all so easily spurned society’s rules? “Does no one have any sense of propriety here?!”

“You do, and it hardly seems like any fun at all,” Ren retorted.

“I am nothing but proper, and resent your accusations greatly,” Phasma said at the same time.

Hux opted not to respond. He knew a losing battle when he saw one.

The conversation ended on that lighthearted note. It grated on Hux, this lack of gravity and aggression; yet at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to sour the mood. It seemed like a waste of energy in many ways.

Perhaps it was the way this conflict had been resolved: in compromise and pleasant cordiality, rather than bitterness and hard-won scraps of victory. It was wholly unfamiliar, downright alien to Hux, and left him feeling oddly bereft. Surely, there was some battle to be fought?

Social interactions were forged on deceit, vapid pleasantries and fights for dominance. A life-long lesson that was bereft of any exception, despite what recent weeks could lure him into believing.

But with no snide comment or thinly veiled sneer to latch on to, Hux was forced to question that stance. He didn’t know if it such a path would lead to self-growth or merely a carefully laid trap.

So preoccupied was he by his inner mulling that he barely recalled most of the funambulist’s performance. It must have been impressive, for the rope was fairly high and extremely thin, but Hux could summon little emotional response. The only moment that held any clarity was when the funambulist pretended to stumble to galvanize the crowd. The gasps he summoned had been enough to startle Hux, who recoiled sharply in reflex. Ren’s hand on the small of his back had saved him from a humiliating fall, and he could only mumble an apology while disguising the blush rising to his cheeks.

All in all, the show was a short affair – walking across a rope could only take so long after all. The crowd dispersed, not without murmurs of awe and delight.

It was then that Miss Faringham finally caught up to them, eyes wide in both anger and mildly disguised panic. Hux felt a pang of sympathy for Phasma. Her chaperone was a tenacious as a cockroach, and held just about an equal amount of appeal.

Though really, he thought as he looked at Phasma’s unimpressed stare and the chaperone’s nearly resigned expression, perhaps Miss Faringham deserved some pity for the charge she had been entrusted with.

“My Lady! I thought you had forgotten about me!” she exclaimed, in a tone that tried so hard to appear joking but couldn’t hide its true desperate nature.

“I could never, Miss Faringham,” Phasma said airily, walking right past her as she made her way to the exit. “You are on the dinosaur list.”

Ren snorted. The chaperone turned to openly glare at him, but gave no retort as she trailed behind her Lady.

Once outside, she was quick the usher Phasma away. The Lady offered little resistance, seemingly finding some mercy within her for the old woman. However, she did spare them one last amused glance before leaving Hux and Ren alone on the street, Mitaka a few meters away hailing for two coaches.

“I enjoyed this afternoon together, Ren,” Hux said, voice calm despite the difficult admission. He reached inside his inner pocket, pulling out a cigar from its container. As he did, he graced Ren with a steady stare. “Do not impose your company like that ever again.”

“Yes,” Ren replied, and for one Hux heard some true contrition in his voice.

“And leave my valet alone.”

“Yes.” That one was more amused than anything else.

“Good.” He brought the cigar to his lips, savoring the smoke as he exhaled. “I will see you again soon, I expect.”

Ren smiled. He looked absurdly fond. “Yes, Hux.”

Mitaka returned shortly after. Ren quickly climbed into the coach provided for him, and gave them one final nod in farewell before driving off in his Hansom. Hux and Mitaka climbed in their own vehicle, the later of the two nearly plastering himself to the side of the cabin in order to make certain Hux had enough room.

It had been an odd afternoon, all things considered. But not an unpleasant one. Certainly memorable, and by many regards fruitful in terms of making valuable connections. All in all, Hux felt he could be quite pleased with himself.

Looking out on London’s streets, he wondered whether Mitaka’s time with Phasma had been anything like his time with Ren, and resolved to inquire later on. From the corner of his eye he could see his valet’s smile, both satisfied and wistful.

Hux took a puff from his cigar, and through his slow and steady exhale felt his lips pull in a similar expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up - next chapter will be posted on Friday rather than Thursday, because I have a 24h shift at the hospital that day, and it would be in very poor taste to be on AO3 at that time. ^^


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [mousiesshi](http://mousiesshi.tumblr.com/) for their invaluable help.
> 
> Still no art in this chapter (you can expect it at chapter 7 :) ), but you can still see some amazing artpieces [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/), as well as terrific fics and all around awesomeness!
> 
> Also, so sorry for every comment I have yet to respond to - I will get to it ASAP, it's been a hectic week!

The next four weeks were largely spent balancing his presence in London’s social scene with his more sensitive activities. When he was not meeting with Phasma or Ren, or attending whatever event he was invited to, his days were largely devoted to building the weapon demanded of him.

The first two weeks were spent merely writing down numbers on paper as he attempted to determine what forces and energies would be at play in his construction. His calculations were not completed on the third week, but with so many technical issues raised he had opted to begin on his prototypes in order to test what theories came to him.

The fourth week was spent running back and forth between his equations and the small, fragments of a machine strewn about his work table; a collection of disparate pieces that could never hope to form a coherent whole so long as the first task was not completed.

The fifth week started with him throwing a book at the wall.

“Damn it all to hell!”

“Hux?”

That was Ren, looking up from his book to star at Hux in amused confusion. So used was Hux to his presence that he hadn’t even taken him into account before giving in to his outburst.

These past few weeks, Ren had become a nebulous cross between a friendly acquaintance, an unavoidable irritation and a colleague. Or perhaps more accurately, co-commander. The last meeting at the New Imperium Lounge had seen Hux be all but officially promoted as second in command, a place he shared with Ren due to the latter’s nebulous and privileged relationship with the old man.

“Five major cities,” Snoke had said. “Five points of attack. Five weapons, all activated in unison. There will be none standing after that. Lord Hux will see to it. I expect all of you to defer to him, and assist him in any way he sees fit.”

Hux had preened under the acknowledgment, though the feeling had been dulled with unease when Snoke turned to grace him with a benevolent smile. There was no doubting that the man was a more than a mere ringleader, wielding power and an aura of charm, both ill-defined but no less potent. The mere fact that he had managed to impose himself as a leader of the highly-hierarchized military when he had no rank to his name spoke volumes of his ability to inspire loyalty. He was a man to be admired.

And yet, Hux could not help the wisps of alarm he felt whenever he laid eyes upon him. It was an antipathy that held much deeper root than Hux’s desire to topple the man at the top. Self-protection in a most instinctual form, reacting to a threat Hux couldn’t verbalize or even properly perceive.

It was hardly a justifiable instinct when Snoke had done more for him than anyone. Though Ren had had a direct hand in advancing Hux’s place in this plot, it was clear that it was all done by the grace of Snoke’s will.

Hux had never been one to doubt his instincts, but nor was he a man to act without solid evidence. His current predicament left him stumped.

A short-termed, unsatisfying solution was to ignore the issue for now. That revealed itself to be far easier than anticipated, as Hux found himself quickly growing into the authority bestowed upon him. He gave precise instructions and found, with no small amount of delight, that they were promptly executed by young officers eager to finally act upon a long simmering plot. Those who did not involve themselves in the process – mainly old generals and colonels whom Hux knew better than to ask anything of – quickly became sidelined entirely.

Of course, there was only so much others could do for him. Beyond gathering what supplies he needed, there was little untrained men could do to assist him. Ren was the only one who came to visit regularly, seemingly eager to do even the basest tasks if it would allow him to remain in Hux’s study. Hux also suspected that Ren was monitoring Hux’s progression on Snoke’s orders, and so had never turned him away. It helped that Ren had a surprising capacity for being unobtrusive if needed, content to lose himself in meditative thought whilst Hux worked in silence.

All in all, it had been surprisingly enjoyable. The past few weeks had allowed him to rediscover his taste for engineering, which had been smothered by his father’s scorn and Hux’s own spite. He had all but forgotten how greatly he enjoyed jotting down calculations and schematics, to witness his vision brought to life by his intellect.

Except now.

It had been beyond childish to lash out as he had, but his frustration had been such that he hadn’t thought twice. What progress he had made these past few weeks had been laughable, the entire project to a near standstill as he attempted to solve impossible equations.

It was the struggle that came before failure, and the mere prospect of it filled Hux with bile and shame.

 “And you criticize my temper,” Ren drawled from his sprawled position on his seat. “You have encountered a setback, as has any inventor before. If you merely trust in your abilities-”

“I have plenty confidence in my abilities!” Hux was shouting; it was unbecoming. He did not care in the least. “I also have full confidence that the laws of thermodynamics will not cease to exist in the foreseeable future. A fact that I am sure you will be pleased to learn, since _you_ are not the one asked to build a device that goes against every single one of them!”

In three quick strides, he was face to face with Ren, brandishing his rumpled paper filled with useless equations into the other man’s face. “Energy dissipates, Ren! _Dissipates!_ And yet, you and Snoke require that I somehow convince it to multiply and concentrate itself!”

“Hux…”

“Oh, but that isn’t even the first of my worries! No, no, before worrying about bending the energy to my impossible demands, I must first find a way to _create_ it! Out of thin air! Lavoisier’s grave had best have ample room, for he will be performing several spins within it!”

“Hux…”

“My calculations are undisputable, Ren! The numbers are absurd! Plainly absurd! There is no engine or force in the world capable of meeting them!”

“Hux…”

“Oh, I know what you will say, Ren! Innovation! I should be thankful for a worthy challenge!” Hux seethed. “Well, then, I suggest you create that device on your own, for I have humored you long enough! I cannot possible do what is demanded of me with the tools I am given! It is not a matter of backing down from a challenge, it is -”

“Hux!”

Hux snapped his mouth shut, swallowing what might very well have turned into an endless stream of words.

Ren took a deep breath. “You are absolutely right.”

So shocked Hux was at the words, he could only blink. “Pardon?”

“I have been remiss,” Ren said slowly, embarrassment coating his words even as he put on an air of confidence.  “You project such confidence, enough to fool the world into believing that you need no assistance save your own mind. Though I do wish you had voiced your concerns earlier.”

“Well you know of them now. What of it?”

“I can help you.”

“What?!”

The exchange was so far beyond Hux’s expectations that he found he couldn’t quite keep a proper hold on his anger. Despite his wishes, he found it morphing into a strange hybrid of irritation, righteous indignation, and utter confusion as Ren carried on with his explanations.

“Yes. Though I was not instructed to share this with you believe that- I -” Ren cut himself off, suddenly standing ramrod straight as if called to attention. His breath hitched, a half-startled, half-fearful inhale. His eyes flickered to the side for a short second, before settling back upon Hux as he spoke his next words in a clipped, almost frantic manner. “Come to my house this evening. I will… You will know all you require. Or so I hope.”

He took his leave without another word. Hux had grown in the habit of receiving him on short notice (a progress compared to Ren’s prior habits), but seldom had the opposite scenario occurred. If anything, Ren seemed more and more at ease as time passed, and as such less eager to leave come nightfall.

As the door slammed shut, Hux watched it wordlessly, feeling both bereft and an intense desire to throw something once more.

**~*~**

The passing hours had brought no further enlightenment regarding Ren’s abrupt departure. In fairness, Hux had been too busy seething and drinking tea, trying to work himself down from the particular type of rage only lackluster mathematics can bring. Pondering Ren had been counter-productive to that endeavor, and so Hux had valiantly kept his mind from straying towards the subject.

It had proven to be a far more difficult exercise than anticipated, as Ren had developed the nasty habit of drawing Hux’s thoughts to him, even in his absence. Nevertheless, it had been nothing a historical novel and a prodigious amount of willpower hadn’t been able to solve. When Hux presented himself in front of Ren’s home he was, if not calm, then significantly less full of ire than he had been earlier that day.

Also, honesty forced him to admit that his mounting curiosity as to what type of home a man such as Ren might live in left room for little else in his mind. Especially when his expectations so far had been thoroughly shattered.

Hux had little talent for imagination beyond schematics and simulations, so he would be hard pressed to describe what he had envisioned. It had really been nothing more than a vague notion that Ren’s outrageousness would have shone through the stone, seeping through the windows and the doors and that the whole of it would somehow be aimed at Hux specifically.

Instead, what Hux saw before him was perplexingly _pleasant._ Brown stones tinted red, trimmed with white woodwork around the doors and windows. A clean alleyway guarded by well-maintained gates, the front yard elegantly bare save for a few carefully trimmed bushes. A well-established family would have been fortunate to call such a place home, and this was nothing more than Ren’s _pied-a-terre_!

The knowledge wasn’t so surprising once one recalled that Ren was the heir to the Organa family, whose wealth and influence had soared since Lord Palpatine’s retirement from politics – and both had been considerable to begin with. But Ren had done such thorough work of separating himself from his family that such a fact did not come immediately to Hux’s mind.

Really, Hux thought as he knocked on the door, he would have to learn just what pushed Ren to cut ties with such a line. He couldn’t fathom motivation strong enough to spurn such privilege.

When the door opened, Hux was greeted by a butler and a footman both – another testament to Ren’s wealth. After being relieved from his coat, Hux was promptly escorted towards the drawing room, where Ren was already waiting for him.

The room itself was far more welcoming than Hux would have expected from a man such as Ren. It bore the trappings of a traditional English sensibility, with dark red couches and tastefully carved wooden walls, a carpet of brown and gold upon which rested a heavy wooden coffee table upon which rested a few books. Next to them Hux could also see parchment-like scrolls written in a language he did not recognize, with carelessly scribbled notes in its margin. There was a wooden broadsword in the corner, a glass jar filled with metal and wooden spheres beside it, and many other baubles Hux couldn’t begin to fathom the purpose of.

And in the middle of it stood Ren, who had risen from his seat as soon as Hux had entered and whose eyes had never left him since. Who looked so very different like this, without the heavy black coat he wore as an armor or the arrogant forcefulness he bore as a shield. Here in his home, Ren merely wore a maroon vest and a white shirt with the upper two buttons left open. His hair was untied, freely falling upon his shoulders even as they kept a slight wave from their previously tied state.

Hux could see the light shimmer in those locks whenever Ren shifted. He could catch a glimpse of the hollow of his throat through the cradle of his open shirt.

It was a breathtaking sight, for reasons that went far beyond surprise or novelty. It had all to do with the undeniable truth that Ren was a beautiful man.

The thought had been there, previously; unvoiced, barely touched upon, hidden away with a relentlessness that came from self-preservation. For now that Hux allowed it to truly blossom, he felt a familiar animal stir within him, made of hunger and warmth and his own perdition in beautiful apparel. A relentless little beast who so loved to gnaw on the chains of discretion and self-control, heedless of the terrible consequences should its desires be discovered by the world.

It could not happen. Hux placed too much pride in himself, in the hard and sharp ice of his character to allow his world to be destroyed by fire. So newly awakened this desire was no more than a dull heat in the pit of his stomach, but how quickly embers could flare into an inferno.

Though Hux could have sworn centuries had passed, when the butler announced his presence to the master of the house he realized it must have been but seconds since he entered the room. Meaning he had but seconds to regain his composure and claim control of his thoughts. A near impossible task when Ren’s gaze never strayed from his own.

“Thank you, Palleon,” Ren murmured. “That will be all.”

The butler gave a short bow, closing the doors behind him as he exited the room.

The moments of silence that followed were a blessing, in truth. They gave Hux the time to smother his yearning frivolities with duty and ambition, as he had done countless times in the past. With thoughts of success and conquest he succeeded in locking that little beast in a box in the back of his mind, and by summoning all the irritation and impatience of the morning he managed to drown out the sound of it scratching against the lid.

“You’re here,” Ren murmured.

Hux frowned. “You invited me.”

“I did, yes,” Ren said slowly, as if he questioned his own hand in his deeds. The pensiveness promptly faded when Ren suddenly remembered his manners. “Have a seat, please.”

“Will you not offer me something to drink?” Hux asked as he complied.

“It is best if you remain sober.”

Hux snorted. “You greatly underestimate my fortitude.”

Ren didn’t answer. His features shifted a thousand times in mere seconds, glimpse of expressions that disappeared before Hux could truly seize them.

Not for the first time, he wondered how he could have ever thought of the man as “expressionless”. It seemed evident now that Ren’s impassive face was in reality nothing more than too many emotions surging at once, so much so that none could clearly shine through.

“Well?” he prompted when Ren still remained silent. He was surprised to find the irritation he felt to be rather mild; he had never been one to suffer having his time wasted. Ren had a tendency to inspire uncharacteristic patience within him, a skill he seemed wholly unaware of.

(He refused to entertain the notion that his _inclinations_ had anything to do with it. He was not a man ruled by appetites or passion.)

“I requested an audience with Lord Snoke,” Ren finally said, though he looked almost pained to do so. “The knowledge I wished to share with you is highly sensitive, and I could not in good conscience share it without his blessing.”

“If you have summoned me tonight to say that you can say nothing, I will not be well pleased.”

“He… was reticent, initially. He raised some valid concerns, some of which I… I defended your case to the best of my ability, as I am certain you are a sharp and dedicated mind. More than worthy of such knowledge.” He took a deep breath. “Lord Snoke expressed his reserves, but in the end encouraged me to do as I thought best.”

Hux waited for Ren to continue, unsure if such hesitance stemmed from the knowledge Ren intended to share or from the mere fact that he was going against Snoke’s wishes. Whatever the case, the man before him was a far cry from the one who had so arrogantly intruded into Hux home to demand his loyalty.

Hux was unsure how he felt about such a being.

“There is no need to be nervous, Ren,” he needled, knowing it would pull Ren from the silence he had fallen in once again.

“I am not,” Ren snapped defensively, predictably. “Merely uncertain how to present matters in a manner that _you_ would understand.”

“How about a straightforward one?” Hux huffed. “It would be a refreshing change.”

Ren paused at that, considering Hux’s words far more deeply than even Hux had intended. Eventually he nodded. “Very well.”

The resolute, relieved expression he bore was nearly perplexing. It became more so when he went towards the glass jar on the fireplace, retrieving the metal and wooden spheres that had been placed within it.

 “Do you plan to juggle those?” Hux quipped, eyeing the four spheres with thinly veiled confusion.

“In a fashion,” Ren evaded. “You said you required a source of energy unlike any the world has ever known.” He raised his eyes to look straight into Hux’s. “Allow me to show it to you.”

Hux had in mind to berate him for his dramatics, but the words died on his tongue a scant seconds later.

The orbs were floating.

Hux repeated the words in his mind, finding them just as absurd – but by some inexplicable happening, just as accurate.

The orbs were floating. There were no strings to be seen, no rail upon which they could glide. Spheres of wood and metal alike all hovered above Ren’s hands, spinning in slow circles at a steady speed.

Hux looked back at Ren, whose eyes held far too many emotions for Hux to untangle. Or perhaps he might of, had his mind not been so terribly occupied trying to make sense of what he was witnessing.

The orbs began spinning faster and faster, changing the axis of their orbit as they did. Their perimeter widened, their trajectory shifted, until some of them were frantically spinning near the ceiling whilst others made their way around the room at a languid pace. All of it so effortless and natural looking, even as Ren defied every known law of the universe.

Hux was no devout man, but he would have wagered that even Saint Thomas would have refused to believe what his very eyes saw.

“This… magnetism?” he murmured. He took a cautious step closer, afraid that any sudden movement would dissolve whatever phenomenon he was witnessing. “A strong enough field to affect the metal… But how do you toy with the wood…?”

Ren shook his head. “No magnetism here,” he said calmly. “Only the Force.”

Hux could hear the capitalization behind the word, but what concept it referred to was utterly foreign to him. And how could it not be? Here before him was the absurdity he had staunchly rejected during his studies, the wonder the belief in which had been beaten out of him as a child. There should be no name for this except _impossible_. And yet.

Ren’s gyroscope joined the ballet of levitating objects, its rings slowly turning as it defied gravity with the same ease as all the rest.

“This could still very well be a carefully planned parlor trick.” It seemed unlikely, but how to be sure? “There is a handkerchief in my front pocket. Levitate that as well, and I will consider myself convinced.”

Moments later, a wisp of black and red silk joined the dance, twirling around the floating orbs at a faster pace still.

“Sorcery,” Hux whispered, disbelief slowly morphing into awe. “And you call it the Force?”

Ren nodded. “It is the name I was given for it. It is as fitting as any other.”

“How did you learn how to do this?”

“I did not. These abilities have been within me since I was born. Control and precision came with time, of course. But I could no more teach you how to yield it than I could teach you how to breathe. It  comes too naturally to be put into words.”

“But I need not know how to use it to know how to harness it,” Hux murmured. “Ah, but what I wouldn’t give to make this mine!”

Ren seemed unperturbed by that last admission. If anything, he appeared soothed by Hux’s display of greed. “I haven’t shown this to anyone. Not in the past fifteen years.”

“You _were_ nervous.” Hux said with a small smile, far more fondness and gentleness in those words than he ever thought himself capable of. “What did you fear?”

“That you would not understand,” Ren murmured, the confession pouring out of him so readily; like putting down a heavy weight long held close. “And from that lack of understanding would stem fear, or scorn. Or something worse. I know the workings of men’s minds far too intimately. They are often disappointing.”

“I do not understand this,” Hux admitted. His eyes were bright. “And what I do not understand, I am captivated by.”

“There is much more to show you.”

Hux hummed in agreement and pleasure. Such a tantalizing prospect it was!

It was with uncharacteristic playfulness that he picked one out of the air, bringing it back down as if to put it back in its rightful place in Ren’s hands. The metal sphere was heavy in his palm, yet it resumed its floating as soon as he released it from his grasp.

Hux left his hand over Ren’s, palm hovering over palm. The metal orbs kept on spinning in the air, moved by a force far beyond what Hux’s hands could interfere with.

“Then reveal it all to me,” he demanded, feeling drunk on the power he was witnessing, on the promise it brought. On the waves that were pouring out of Ren, and wondering if he would feel it humming beneath the man’s skin were he to dare to touch. “Such an exquisite gift you have given me. This new land to conquer.”

“Ah, Hux,” Ren murmured, wistful and self-deprecating in ways Hux couldn’t understand. “You already conquer far too well.”

**~*~**

In the early days, Hux proved an eager pupil, and in many ways far more than Ren was as a teacher. Though the other man held obvious pride in his abilities and prowess, he dispensed his knowledge as easily as a dragon would give away its hoard. The tentativeness of that first night had never fully left him, and though Hux’s greedy attentiveness obviously flattered him, the revelation of any new ability was accompanied by a scrutinizing gaze that was only tempered by the strange sort of amiability Ren held for him.

A more considerate man might have worried about intruding on a deeply private and sensitive secret, but Hux was incapable of such considerations. That evening in Ren’s drawing room had broken the chains keeping him sequestered in his cave, revealing to him tantalizing power of which he had only ever seen the shadows upon the wall.

Fortunately for him, Ren seemed to gain some confidence as days went on. It was visible in the small flourishes he added to his demonstrations, in his explanations that grew longer and more animated. The reverence he held for his discipline meant that no new information would be dispensed casually, but it was an improvement nonetheless. Ren was reserved, but no longer secretive.

Hux’s demands allowed for nothing else.

It wasn’t long before Hux could feel true progress being made. A little over a week after their evening in his drawing room, Ren had announced that he held the solution to Hux’s calculation, and swore to show him the evidence of his claim the next day.

He held true on his promise – at least, Hux had to believe as much. It was admittedly difficult when Ren’s solution took on the form of a lower-quality gem.

“And you tell me this crystal functions as a conduct _and_ as a power source?”

Ren shrugged. “I make no pretense of understanding the science you would put behind it, which I am aware is the only explanation you will care for. All that I know is that this crystal resonates with the Force in a peculiar fashion, and transforms invisible energy into a more tangible form.”

“All the while whilst looking like costume jewelry. In different colors, too. An aesthetic choice?”

“Each crystal tends to behave differently. The Force they emit takes on different manners of power and destructiveness, depending on the color. Were I to interact with all of them, you would find different results for each.”

Hux hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps to do with wavelengths? Assuming the Force was somehow linked to light, the crystal would be receptive to a very specific one, which would translate then to the corresponding color upon the spectrum. Though I do not know how the corpuscular theory would affect this interpretation.Which one am I to choose?”

“Whichever you prefer.” Ren shrugged. “The purpose of these samples is for you to select the one best suited for your needs?”

Hux hummed thoughtfully, considering each crystal. A largely pointless gesture, as they all looked quite similar to him. “Which of these do you feel the most at ease with? That is, which do you find more malleable with your use of the Force?”

Ren’s answer was instantaneous. “The red ones.”

“Well then, let’s not complicate manners unnecessarily.” Hux picked up the red crystal, chiseling off a sliver before placing it under the microscope. “These are to be the cornerstone of our new device. It only makes sense that I make use of the one you have the most ease in handling.”

There was a knock at the door. Hux didn’t even bother looking up, knowing that Ren would take care of it. As he continued to study the crystal’s composition, he heard Mitaka’s low voice followed by Ren’s short response. The door shut seconds later, and Ren returned with an envelope in hand, which he put down besides Hux’s hand on the table.

“What is it?”

“A letter from Lord Thanisson,” Ren answered. “An invitation to a ball he will be hosting. No doubt to try to find a suitable match for his daughter.”

Hux scoffed. “I’m surprised that he can even afford it. Though perhaps he considers bankruptcy a fair price for ridding himself of that daughter of his.”

“Will you attend?”

“Most likely,” Hux answered distractedly. “I am not so popular or influential that I can allow myself to decline.”

“I would wager a fair sum that I will find a similar letter upon returning home,” Ren said conversationally. “My offer is still standing, if you are interested.”

Hux tore his gaze away from the microscope, frowning. “Which offer?”

“To publicly humiliate her. Or any other sort of vengeance. Though you strike me more as a man with an inclination for poetic justice, so I thought the idea of bringing her low when she once looked down on you would appeal most.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Hux mumbled, before snickering. “Oh, why not! It would be a laugh. Just make sure whatever you do cannot be tied back to me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. It would hardly be a suitable gift otherwise.”

“How thoughtful,” Hux drawled, his smirk perfectly matching Ren’s. “Enough with Thanisson. We have far more fascinating endeavors to occupy ourselves with. Show me how these crystals resonate.”

With a nod, Ren reached out to pick up a red crystal. His brows furrowed in concentration, and moments later it was as if light had ignited within the crystal itself.

Its glow was an intense, deep red, painting the palm of Ren’s hands like a mirage of blood. When Ren brought it up to his face, the crimson coated the arch of his brow, down the length of his nose to caress the corner of his lip. It looked like a scar, made of power, and Ren appeared all the more fearsome for it.

Hux watched it all, and thought it was a fine choice indeed.

**~*~**

A few days later, Hux had invited Ren along to a teahouse not too far from his apartment. In normal circumstances, he was not one for frivolous outings; that being said, even he was beginning to feel suffocated by his own home, the result of weeks spent locked away accomplishing scientific prowess. A change of scenery was in order, if only for his own sanity.

Hux had sternly warned Ren against causing any sort of scandal, and though the smirk he received in answer was none-too-reassuring, he had been pleasantly surprised in the end. It seemed years of social education hadn’t been totally lost on Ren, for he was very well-behaved, courteous towards the staff even when he was demanding.

It made for a fine late afternoon with fine tea, good weather, and a pleasant conversation on the topic that had held his interest for over a month.

“It seems strange,” Hux mused as he nibbled on a cucumber sandwich. “That such a tremendous power be so unknown.”

Ren hummed non-committedly, sipping from his cup. “History is fraught with cautionary tales. Witch hunts, crusades, or simply crippling defamation, it is all the same in the end. Best to operate from the Shadows, our powers secret but no less real.”

“Do you know of any of them?”

“My family. The Force is strong in our bloodline.”

Hux paused, shoulders tensing in alarm. “Organa is capable of such things?”

“No,” Ren replied, his straightforward answer doing more to reassure than any cajoling might have. “The knowledge was lost to her as a child, and once an established woman she cared not to learn. My uncle proved both more interested and more adept. He was my guide during such early years.”

“How disconcerting,” Hux commented, lips pursed. “Such a powerful family, infused with greater power still.”

“There is little to worry about. Having been under their tutelage, I can assure you that their philosophies are limiting and self-stifling. They may have power, but they do nothing with it.My uncle also resides in India. If you wish for more practical causes for relief.”

“Do you know of any other in London with abilities such as yours?”

“None other than Snoke, no.”

“Snoke?”

Ren nodded solemnly. “He is my teacher. I owe him much.”

“I see,” Hux said slowly, digesting the information as best he could. “I might have guessed something similar.”

In retrospect, that Snoke would even know of the Force should have been evidence enough that he himself could wield it. Moreover, it certainly explained the unusual reverence Ren held for the old man.

The knowledge did nothing to sooth his still ongoing unease surrounding the man.

“His mastery of the Force far exceeds my own,” Ren said, voiced infused with admiration. “It is a privilege to be considered by him.”

“Why is he not with us then? Such power would be best put to use here, I should think.”

“He had other considerations. There is much work to be done that can only be accomplished in shadows even darker than the ones we operate in.”

“He did not wish for me to know of your Force. I fail to see the efficiency in his reasonings.”

“My teacher is wise. There is value in secrecy, even from allies.”

Hux chose not to argue the point further. Snoke and Ren’s relationship was far too complex for him to take on.

Instead, he let the conversation drift to other topics. Speaking of foreign affairs led to speaking of foreign lands as a whole, which led to a rather stimulating debate. Ren’s knowledge of foreign cultures surpassed Hux’s own by virtue of his travels during his youth, and though they both agreed on the ultimate supremacy of the Empire, Ren was far more willing to praise those other civilizations.

The conversation went for little over an hour, until the waiters set about to gently press their clientele to promptly finish their meal, as closing hours were approaching. When Hux reached into his coat pocket to pay the bill, his hand met nothing but an empty pocket.

“Blast!”

“Hux?”

“My wallet. Some street rat must have plucked it right out of my pocket!”

“How long ago?”

“How the bloody hell should I know?” At Ren’s deadpanned stare, he deflated slightly, grumbling. “Not long. It was still in my pocket before we sat down.”

Ren frowned, then stood up so abruptly the table rattled. “Come with me.”

He tossed a few bills on the table, far more than what was owed, and gestured towards the waiter nearest to the table. Without waiting for a response, he marched towards the door, turning back once to assure himself that Hux was following.

Once on the street, he reached inside his coat and pulled out the gyroscope Hux had seen him fiddle with before – and really, where he found the room to place that bulky thing, Hux did not know.

Ren’s brows furrowed in concentration, and slowly the gyroscope’s rings began to spin. Rapidly at first, then at a slower and slower pace until they barely moved at all, and the device pointed resolutely in one direction.

“Follow me.”

Ren began walking as the gyroscope pointed, keeping his hand close to his chest to disguise how the small device was levitating right over his palm. Hux followed suit, observing how Ren changed his trajectory in accordance to the different rings’ instruction.

“I had wondered what you used that blasted thing for. A tracking spell of some sort?”

“What I do isn’t _spells_ , Hux.” Ren’s irritation was mild; Hux had used that term to needle Ren several times in the past, and the man was finally building up some immunity to it. “But in a fashion. It points towards what I seek. In truth, I could most likely do without it. It is a useful heuristic, though. To have a physical manifestation of my intent allows me divert my focus elsewhere.”

“Ingenious.”

Ren’s lips twitched at the praise, though he attempted to affect modesty. “Trial and error, mostly. This trick in particular, I’ve had many years to polish.” He let out a small breath as his eyes lost their focus. “I’ve had this since I was a boy.”

He hastened his pace then, leaving Hux no choice but to cease his questioning if he wished not to lose him in the crowd.

Ren was relentless in his pursuit, more steadfast on retrieving the stolen wallet than perhaps Hux himself. Nothing seemed capable of halting his steps, be it the oncoming traffic or the swarm of people that occupied London’s streets. His trajectory was also largely unpredictable, swerving between stores and streets at a moment’s notice. It was a small miracle that he hadn’t toppled over stalls or ran into a carriage, so focused was he on the gyroscope.

Hux kept up to the best of his ability, inexplicably fascinated by the near-obsessive determination. It was rare to see Ren’s bone-deep intensity directed towards a task. Hux knew he considered most practical and daily affairs beneath him, a contempt that extended to society’s rules and the people that inhabited it. The sole holder of his reverence was the Force, and by extension of it his master.

And Hux as well. That obvious exception was all that kept Ren’s selective interests from sliding into boorish disregard.

In front of a particularly narrow street, Ren paused. The gyroscope spun a short moment before firmly pointing towards the darkened alley. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ren followed its direction.

Hux faltered. This path led them away from the heavily populated streets and their safety. It was unwise for gentlemen of their stature to wander such neighborhoods alone. Hux would have never considered it in normal circumstances.

That being said, he couldn’t very well show such hesitance now. Not with Ren so fearlessly walking ahead. Hux refused to be labeled a coward.

As he followed suit, he found that the alleyway was not only narrow and dimly lit, but also surrounded by smaller streets still, their opening barely visible and their prolongation too shrouded in darkness to discern anything. The mere sight of them raised the hair on the back of Hux’s neck, as they brought to mind the many dissimulated paths he had used in order to ambush England’s enemies.

How right he was.

When two men appeared seemingly out of nowhere, he knew his instincts had been correct. Their focused, aggressive demeanor only confirmed their intent. Yet despite anticipating them, Hux had very little time to react.

Without any weapon on his person, his only resource would have been to grab Ren, who seemed unaware of the imminent danger, and promptly run back to the main street. However, before he could take hold of the other man’s arm, a third man assaulted him from behind. Hux cried out as a vice-like grip pulled him backwards, drawing Ren’s attention towards him just as the other two men pounced him in turn.

The strategy was obvious. Ren was obviously the larger, more muscled of the two, and thus it made sense to neutralize him through a distraction and superior numbers. Hux cursed the fact that the low-lives that had attacked them were capable of such foresight.

He cursed again when he was violently slammed against the wall, barely avoiding a concussion by keeping his chin as close to his chest as possible and his shoulders hunched. His assaulter was much larger than he was, and pinned him against the dirty bricks with disconcerting ease.

Hux kicked his legs towards the man’s stomach, hissing in satisfaction when he hit his target. His satisfaction was short-lived however, as his assailant grunted but held firm. Black eyes on a dirty faced shone with anger, and Hux braced himself for an answering blow.

Instead, there was a roar.

It was a voice Hux dimly recognized, but so distorted by violence and fury that the familiarity was nearly lost. In the next second Hux’s assailant was violently ripped off of him, causing Hux himself to stumble forward at the sudden lack of opposing force to his struggles.

Catching himself on the opposing wall, his eyes slightly downcast, he saw two bodies sprawled on the floor. Ren’s would-be-attackers, both breathing but heavily injured. One of them was unconscious on the floor, his face sporting a ghastly wound as if it had been hurled against the wall. The other was clutching at his wrist, which bent at an unnatural angle. His moans were low, far too dim to be coming from a throat that hadn’t been at least partially crushed.

And standing above them, ignoring them entirely, was Ren. His large, crushing hands were wrapped around the third assailant’s throat. He was holding him above the ground as if it were no feat of strength, his lips pulled back into a snarl, his eyes gleaming in anger. He looked less like an aggressive beast than some demon of furious vengeance, moments away from unleashing himself against a small, cowering mortal.

Ren was power and violence made flesh, made beautiful as it was cloaked in dark eyes and silk. And Hux thrilled at the notion that such a being was in his company and his possession.

Sadly, as much as he thought he might enjoy the spectacle, it wouldn’t do to garner attention in such a manner. Ren may not lose much in terms of reputation, but Hux had no such luxury.

“Ren!”

Ren didn’t answer, merely turned his head towards Hux. He never released his grip on the low-life who had attacked them, and seemed both confused and annoyed at the interruption.

Hux’s lips twitched in amusement. “I would like to avoid being charged for homicide, if it is all the same to you. Even in self-defense. The gossip would be terrible.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed, but he complied – halfway, at least. He released his hold on the man, but not before pressing him against the wall, barring all escape from him until Ren allowed it. His hand came to hover over the man’s face. Hux thought Ren might hit the weaker man once more, but the angle was too odd for the blow to be effective.

Violence did not seem to be Ren’s intent any longer. His voice was steady, almost a monotone, yet infused with authority in a manner Hux had seldom heard before. “You will report to the nearest law officer and denounce yourself for assault and attempted theft. You will not leave until you are properly sentenced.”

Hux watched as the attacker’s face when slack, his eyes glazed over and mouth parted open. And then he turned on his heels and left, towards the busy street behind him. Hux followed, watching as the thug walked at a slow pace, heedless of the crowd and the people he bumped against, making his way towards a police officer that perchance was stationed a few tens of meters down the way.

Hux saw a man deliver himself to the gallows, for no other reason than the fact that Ren commanded him to.

“Ren,” he murmured, wonder and dread battling within him “What did you do?”

There was no answer saved for heavy breathing and a still gaze.

“Ren!”

“I believe you know, Hux,” Ren replied tonelessly.

Hux took a deep breath, an effort to keep a firm grip on his composure even as Ren’s purposeful flippancy threatened it. “Phasma’s chaperone was easily soothed by your words. And Mitaka may be of meek character, but his sense of duty is strong enough that he wouldn’t let anyone intrude on his employer’s privacy. Never mind twice.” His voice turned hard. “How easily can you bend others to your will?”

Ren shrugged. “With more ease than most.”

 “Do not play games!” Hux snapped. “Not with me. Not on this.”

“What more do you wish for me to say?” Ren snapped it return, like a child being scolded. His hunched shoulders spoke of defensiveness or guilt, and either way Hux did not care.

 “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

“I can look into minds. Tamper with them, if need be - it is how I made certain the Major General would invite you to join our organization.” At Hux’s wide-eyed, quickly dawning outrage, he hastened to specify: “I cannot do it at any time, and not without focus. What stray thought I sometimes overhear is akin to a leaf blown by the wind – just as easily landed elsewhere than in my grasp.”

Hux took a deep breath, the different revelations battling in his mind over which should cause greater outrage. His pride in particular chaffed at the notion that the Major General had not been impressed with his prowess at all, that he had simply been acting under Ren's influence. Hux had been so proud of that particular achievement, that his reputation alone had given him access to the upper brass, and yet...

But no, he had to remain on the matter at hand. “What else can you do? How many ways of manipulating the mind do you possess?”

“That is all. I swear it. Everything else is nothing but variations of what you have already witnessed.”

“Have you ever done it to me?”

Ren recoiled, as if the idea were physically abhorrent. Hux was not certain he wasn’t being mocked. “No!”

“And my mind? Have you invaded it?”

“Once at the ball, fleetingly. It is what piqued my interest in you.” Ren hesitated. “Another time during the first meeting you attended. You were a cutting blade in a sea of dull tools. It is what made me wish to know more.”

“What admirable self-restraint,” Hux said drily. “What proof have I that you are not lying?”

“The fact that this conversation is having place at all?” Ren replied sharply. The lunacy of him, slipping back into hurt anger as easily as he had left it! “I could very well have made you forget, or compel you to ignore! I could have made you work for a cause without ever granting you your demands or answers to your questions! That I share so much so willingly is a privilege. You would be wise not to forget it.”

Hux sneered. “Is that a threat?”

“I do not need to threaten you, Hux. Were I so inclined, I could simply take as I please.”

The vicious, blunt statement made Hux’s blood run cold, a feeling only worsened when he realized that Ren might very well be able to _feel_ the depths of his unease. Nevertheless, he refused to show any sign of fear or hesitation, and he held Ren’s gaze as steadily and scornfully as he could.

The tense, almost suffocating air between the two of them reminded Hux of the early days of their association. How quickly the pervasive antagonism between the two of them had faded; and how promptly it had returned!

Hux couldn’t decide if he considered it a welcome reminder or an unpleasant regression.

“We should carry on.  Any longer and all of your belongings will have been ransomed and sold by those who stole it.”

Hux thought to object. There was nothing in the wallet save money, which he had plenty of. Far more important was Ren, his powers, and whether or not Hux could rely on them being used in the way he wished them to.

But he knew that if he insisted on continuing the conversation, Ren would deny him, might even ignore him outright. It was an easy victory Hux refused to grant him.

They continued their way in silence, Hux purposefully looking ahead as he made pretense of not noticing Ren’s furtive glances towards him. It was an easily maintained charade, as their quest did not last much longer. In a matter of minutes, Ren slowed his pace near the entrance of an impasse. The gyroscope pointed firmly in its direction, granting absolute certainty as to where his stolen goods lied.

“It is there. How do you wish to proceed?”

The phrasing did not escape Hux’s notice. Ren was deliberately granting him full control, an obvious display of good faith that Hux was undeniably owed.

“Finish what you started, Ren,” Hux said evenly.

Any other answer would show either suspicion or wariness, and that would show Hux to have been thoroughly affected by Ren’s display and the alleyway. Unacceptable.

Ren nodded once, and complied without further word. Hux followed suit, hoping there would be no more tugs to fight off.

Fortunately for them, there was only a small boy at the end of the impasse, looking through the content of Hux’s wallet. His pockets and the crook of his elbows were stuffed with the day’s loot; it was good luck that he hadn’t sold them away yet.

He startled when their shadows fell upon him, and as he looked up Hux saw a grim-covered face that could not have been more than twelve years old. Upon sight of them the child’s eyes widened in comprehension. Before either of them could say a word, he threw the stolen goods on the ground, and took advantage of the diversion to slip himself in between them and bolt towards the main street.

Well, it was most likely that Ren had simply allowed him to leave. Hux didn’t particularly care.

“Well, that is just as convenient as anything else, I suppose,” he quipped, bending down to pick up his wallet. At a glance, it looked mostly intact. “I would have liked to watch you compel him to return it.”

From a scientific standpoint, it would have been a valuable source of information, if only to be able to recognize the effect if exerted against his person.

Viscerally, he simply wished to see Ren use his powers in Hux’s name once more.

“A frightened child would not have been a difficult task,” Ren explained, voice low. “Strong minds require more forcefulness.”

“And what of mine?”

“That is a question I do not wish an answer to. Though I can only imagine your mind as a fortress.” He looked away then, eyes slightly downcast. The corner of his eyes and lips were pinched, his voice was strained, appearing as if he were battling some immense discomfort or pain. “My words were harsh. I did not take to your accusations well.”

“I will not apologies for them. They were well founded.”

Ren’s lips pursed. He would almost look petulant, if he didn’t appear so wounded. “I did not wish for you to fear me. My silence was not an aggression against your being, but a protection towards my own.”

“Knowledge is power. In promoting my ignorance, you have made me weak,” Hux replied, all the while wondering just what sort of harm Ren believed Hux could possibly inflict upon him. “Your abilities are a dangerous weapon.”

Ren’s reaction was an odd thing: eyes flashing with pride, yet his shoulders were hunched. His brows furrowed, even as his lips pulled into a slight smile. His whole was a mess of contradictions and too vivid emotions, and, Hux slowly realized, perhaps the form that was truest to Ren’s deeper thoughts.

How Ren could be both proud of his abilities and fearful of them, Hux didn’t know. That way lied years of history and complexities he may never be fully decipher. It was not in his nature to try, though what did that mean now? It was not in his nature to put himself at risk as he was right now, tolerating a danger he should eliminate. Nor was it in his nature to witness such a display of weakness with neither scorn nor the impulse to take full advantage of it.

How unthinkable, that a man such as Hux might feel something like compassion for a dangerous beast of beautiful power.

(Ah, but it must be witchcraft. And the eyes. And Ren’s voice; his words; his existence, far too large for life, all the things that allowed him to so effortlessly assert himself in Hux’s life and Hux’s mind, ever present and ever appealing to the _unacceptable, unallowable_ _hunger - no,_ desire _\- that Hux had so carefully controlled and -_ )

Hux took a deep breath.

He would not forget himself. He was a man of cold calculation and success, not to be distracted by unwanted emotions. All his decisions were based on rational, nothing more.

He glanced again at Ren.

Rationally speaking, there was much more to be lost in turning Ren away than in keeping him by his side. It would make little sense to antagonize a man of such power, particularly when said man was appearing so contrite. Moreover, Hux had faith in his own judge of character: if Ren were a threat to him, he would have seen it long before today.

(And Hux would not be labeled a coward. He would not fear Ren, would not fear what Ren inspired within him.)

“Oh, the arrogance of you!” he snapped, his irritation more put upon than he cared to admit. “I am angry at you. I am rightfully wary of your abilities. I certainly do not fear you.”

Despite his sad demeanor, Ren huffed out a laugh. ‘How kind of you to say.”

“I have better things to do than soothe and console you,” Hux said. “For a mind of immense power, you are fraught with vulnerabilities.”

Ren nodded once, accepting the criticism with a surprising ease. “I endeavor every day to cure myself of them,” he said gravely, the mark of a cavil often heard and long internalized. “Lord Snoke will teach me, in time.”

A practical notion. Also, a starkly unappealing one.

The thought came to Hux’s mind as easily as drawing breath, and though he wished to berate himself for it, he could not find the will to do so when the twisting of his guts demanded that he maintained that position.

“Allow me to escort you home,” Ren said. His voice was barely above a murmur, yet it cut through the silence that had become deafening. “There are so many unsavory characters at dusk.”

“And what better way to keep them at bay than associate myself with the worst of them all?” Hux quipped, but there was neither heat nor enthusiasm in it. He exhaled heavily, gesturing towards the main street. “Lead the way, Lord Ren.”

Hux’s mind was a restless thing as they made their way through London’s streets.

He might have argued more. He could be planning for contingencies. He could strive for survival and supremacy as he had all his life. And yet, he had consciously decided to do none of it.

He had never thought of himself as the type of man to let go of conflict, and yet here he was, walking besides Ren, not mollified, but no longer alarmed. And no matter how he had justified such a decision to himself, he doubted.

Was this as logical a decision as he had made himself believe it to be? Was this not that insidious weakness within him, seeking to destroy him as it had threatened so often in the past? He prided himself on rationality, but he could safely confess – at least to himself – that his judgment was thoroughly affected by Ren’s presence alone.

Was he making a mistake? The question repeated itself in endless variation within his mind.

Then Ren placed a hand on upon his back, gently stirring him away from a dip in the road; and there his hand remained.

And Hux’s thoughts screeched to a stop.

How powerful Lord Ren was, to dissolve the entire world with a simple gesture of his hand. For London’s streets had faded away, the ground beneath his feet turned to air. Setting sun and its dusk might as well have been the aurora or twilight, for even time had simply ceased to exist.

The entire universe had been reduced to the palm on his back, the heat that radiated off of it and the very essence of Ren, which poured out of it and threatened to seep onto Hux’s skin and beneath it. That hand was Ren’s, undeniably, from the strength that could be felt in its large fingers; the power and underlying, perpetual tension that shone through the occasional twitch of an index; an overlaying sense of confidence and selfish daring, from how readily it had come to lay upon Hux’s back.

The way it rested upon it, lightly, almost gingerly; ready to be pulled away on Hux’s word alone, yet determined to stay for as long as it was allowed. Assisting Hux, who was a grown man in no need of such crutches, simply because it wished to.

There was such _care_ in that hand, tenderness and consideration that Hux could not bear it.

He wanted to rip it off, to jerk away from it, but to do so would reveal too much, far too much. More than anyone could ever be trusted with.

So he remained where he was.

Which was to say, in the palm of Ren’s hand.

Hux drew a shaky breath.

There was a war being raged; Hux did not know the full form or measure of it yet. All he knew was that he was losing. And for the first time in his existence, Hux was unsure of how to win. He did not even know what winning might _be._

And because time itself had disappeared, the two of them arrived at Hux’s doorstep all too soon.

Hux found himself lingering in front of the door. It would be easy to put an end to this moment, this evening; put a hand upon the doorknob and shut the door behind him, leaving Ren outside and allowing Hux to regroup in his own headquarters.

And yet, he did none of it.

“Thank you,” Ren whispered. His eyes were downcast; Hux could not read the expression within them.

“For what?”

“For forgiving me my trespass.” He looked up. Hux was sorry of it; his eyes were far too fond. “You are capable of greater grudges, yet you spare me of them more often than not. I am grateful.”

“I have said nothing about forgiveness.”

Ren said nothing, allowing Hux his pretense. Hux nearly hated him for it, but that hate resembled something else entirely, and far too closely. 

“Good evening, Hux,” Ren said, giving a small bow.

He then began making his way to the street, his back turned to Hux entirely. Hux watched with a tight throat.

 “Careful, Ren,” he said, though he didn’t know what he was warning against, or even why the words had left his lips at all. Yet they felt heavy on his tongue, infused with a more meaning than he might ever know.

Hux was a stranger to himself. The self-image in his mind, once as clear as a reflection in the mirror, was blurred by Ren’s troubled waters.

Ren paused in his steps, just for a moment, just for Hux, and Hux wondered if that was all that he had wanted his words to do.

Ah, but he did not know. That was the torment of it.

And then Ren left, and once more Hux stood there feeling bereft. Only this time there was no righteous anger. There was nothing but the feeling one might have when missing a step upon a staircase, and meeting far too great a fall for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have reached a Kylux milestone! "Careful Ren," I will include these words in every fic if I am able! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, the editing was done by moussiesshi, without whom this chapter would not be half as coherent. 
> 
> Not art, again, but next chapter you will be able to see amazing art from GenerallyHuxurious, aka creepycreepyspacewizard on tumblr (link [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/))! Do check out their work, it is amazing!

In the following days, Hux had hoped to put the entire incident far behind him, from Hux's assault up to that final moment shared on Hux's doorstep.

It wasn’t so.

The memory of that evening refused to leave him. Throughout the day, it remained nestled in a corner of his mind, either a hovering presence or a demanding nuisance. Along with it came a multitude of reimaginings of their conversation, a world of speculation of what might have happened had Ren remained, and a myriad of emotions that might have resembled regret. All of Hux’s efforts to chase them away had been proved fruitless.

He had even gone back to Lloyd, commissioning a suit he had no need for in the hope that his visit would manage to quench his newly awakened thirst. Instead, he had found the tailor to be far less handsome than before, Antonello a bland boy of uninteresting facial features. For the first time he had found his interests lied almost exclusively in the suits, and how they might frame someone with larger shoulders and thicker arms. When Lloyd hands slid across his shoulders to take his measurements, Hux could not help comparing them to Ren – and finding them lacking.

That same night, he had been plagued with a feverish dream featuring himself as a tailor and Ren as his client, where fabric turned into sheets and measuring tape into ropes, and everything became a blur of limbs and skin and scenes taken from Ren’s poetry. Hux had awakened covered in sweat with a moan on his lips, and a hardness between his legs that refused to abate for the rest of the night.

It was maddening.

Ren was always in the corner of his mind, try as he might to focus on other matters. Even reading the morning paper proved a near impossible task. Sipping on Earl Grey made him think of Ren. However, to renounce his morning ritual would be akin to admitting defeat, and so he persevered even as it took longer and longer to get through the _Times._

On this particular day, the task was made particularly difficult by a skittish and frazzled presence hovering near the doorway.

“What is it, Mitaka?”

His valet stepped forward, a white envelope in hand. “A note from Lord Ren.”

Hux closed his eyes, forcing his stiffening limbs to loosen. “Read it to me.”

“He… He bids you to accompany him to the race track this coming Saturday.”

Oh heavens, no. He could no longer trust his body or his subconscious near Ren, certainly not so soon. “Tell him I am not one for frivolous and wasteful entertainment. He may do as he pleases with his time, but I will continue with my work,” he said, keeping his eyes on his paper. “You may formulate it as you like, so long as the message is unchanged.”

“Do you not wish to write the note yourself?”

“No, let it be in your hand.” Hux swallowed. “I will sign it when you are finished.”

Mitaka seemed unsure, but of course did not object. With a short bow, he excused himself to set about his task.

Hux returned to his paper, continuing his futile attempt at reading the article for a few minutes before letting his head fall back in defeat.

There was no running from this unfortunate inclination of his. He needed solve this, and if his own mind was determined to turn against him then he would simply have to call upon a more reliable one instead.

**~*~**

As he stood waiting at the door of the secondary Phasma estate, Hux noted how much larger it was than the mansion back in Arkanis. It wasn’t so surprising, considering the prestige and wealth of the House, but in his current mood the sight of it caused more of a sting than it might have any other day.

Such thoughts were base at best, and plainly rude when visiting another’s household, and so Hux did his best to chase them away. He even managed to keep his smile from stiffening when the front door opened and he saw a butler and _two_ footmen there to greet him. His hat and coat were removed with the utmost care, before the butler escorted him to the drawing room.

Phasma was waiting for him there. She smiled as he entered, standing from her seat to greet him properly. “My Lord Hux,” she said pleasantly, extending her hand.

Hux took it with a smile. It was perhaps a more formal and flirtatious form of greeting than what they relationship called for, but he recognized it for the joke that it was. So he bent down with as much pomp as he could muster, and was rewarded with a slight shake of her shoulders as she held back a chuckle.

“Is Ren not with you?” she asked, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Hux jerked at the name, then did his best to disguise his reaction as mere confusion. “Why would he be?”

“For no reason at all,” she said airily, ushering him towards a seat. “Would you care for some tea?”

“Please.”

It was absolutely preposterous how quickly his heart was beating. He felt as he did upon returning from battle, when he needed to calm his mind and senses from the heightened state of combat. All from the mention of Ren’s name.

It had been quite some time since Hux had felt such little pride in himself.

After giving the butler his instructions, Phasma sat herself in front of him. Rather than stand straight, she reclined in her seat as fully as her crinoline allowed. “I admit, I was surprised to receive your letter, more so when I discovered it to be a request for a visit. Not unpleasantly, mind you, but surprised all the same.”

“Can I not visit a friend?”

“You may. I merely mean that receiving a sign of life from a man one thought might have died is always surprising. I have seen neither hide or hair of you for the last couple of weeks. You have been quite busy, I take it?”

Hux nodded, understanding the true intent behind her question. “Our mutual project has been time consuming, but no less rewarding.”

“So I have heard.” She smirked. “My little troopers are all rather excited, impressed even. I should like to witness the final product. Outside the main performance, that is.”

“I will see what can be arranged. I have no personal objections.”

Phasma smiled in gratitude. Her expression was gentle, yet made of steel. “You are doing good work, Lord Hux. You are the hand that will shape this century.”

Hux’s smile was sincere. Phasma’s praise was worth more than most.

The conversation was momentarily halted as the butler returned with their beverages. Hux allowed Phasma to specify how he took his tea in his stead; she knew his preferences, and for once Hux found some comfort in such passivity. The continuous bass of restlessness that had plagued him for the past week had been draining in ways he would never have suspected, and in that moment there seemed to be little more enjoyable than laying back and listen to pouring tea hitting fine porcelain. 

“Are the Lord and Lady Phasma not present?” he asked as the butler left the room once more. “I should like to present them my respect.”

“My father and mother have retired to our country estate,” Phasma replied. “We are at the dawn of the hunting season, and my father enjoys partaking when the game is still plentiful.”

“And they leave _you_ unattended?”

“I am more than capable of managing the affairs of our household.” She rolled her eyes. “As for what you are truly inquiring about, my father has long accepted that my behavior will neither be curbed nor contained. I do believe he respects that, in a fashion,” she finished thoughtfully.

Hux let out a huff of laughter. Though Phasma’s behavior was reprehensible, he could admit to himself that he received no small amount of vicarious pleasure at watching her spurn her father in such a matter – though Lord Phasma was worthy of far more respect than Brendol Hux would ever be. “Your father is lenient, for a military man.”

“He has lost the battle, and recognized defeat with grace. Well, I suppose it is more of a cease-fire. There will be a time where he will demand that I take a husband, but that is a discussion for another time.”

“A compromise is hardly a victory.”

“Sometimes, it is preferable to a drawn-out struggle. Just look at our neighbors across the ocean,” she added with a smirk. “I have heard the war in the United States is going as strongly as ever. There have been riots in New York following the institution of mandatory draft.”

“Not even a hundred years old and that nation is already tearing itself apart.” Hux rolled his eyes. “All that fuss to be emancipated from the crown, and this is what they do with their Independence.”

“It’s their system of government that is at fault, in truth. Several states, each with their own laws… It could never last the century.”

“I agree completely.” He took another sip from his cup. “It is a chaotic system. Order is the only path to prosperity.”

Phasma chuckled. “I find it somewhat amusing that a man that holds such views is so often seen in the company of Lord Ren. How is he, by the way?”

“I am sure I do not know,” Hux said, straining to keep his voice steady even as his mind was sent spiraling once more.

Why bring Ren up again? What did she _mean_ by it? If anything?

And could he truly not be free of Ren, even for a moment?!

Phasma’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really? I have heard the two of you have grown quite close.”

Hux took a deep breath. “I am not his keeper.”

“If you were I would say you were doing a fairly good job out of it,” Phasma mused. Hux could not tell if she was genuinely unaware of his turmoil, or truly goading him on. “I have not heard of a scandal coming from him in the past weeks!”

“Give him time, he will find a way.”

“True enough, I suppose,” Phasma said with a conceding gesture. “Last time he disappeared for a length of time, he reappeared in a brothel. Though I suppose that with you here, it is less likely to happen.”

Hux nearly dropped his cup. He was aware of his eyes widening, yet he could not even begin to compose his features when he was already fighting the rising horror within him. “What… are you insinuating?!”

“Oh, I did not mean it in _that_ way,” the Lady said teasingly. “Merely that you keep a tight leash on him.”

Distantly, he heard himself deny her claims.

It might be mere teasing. It might be something more. A sly way of letting him know she knew his secrets. A power play. He did not know.

He merely wanted her to _cease this instant._

“Just as well really,” Phasma continued. “From what I understand of the brothel incident, a certain number of leashes were involved, though who was holding them is debated upon.”

Blood was pounding in his temples.  “I hadn’t heard,” he lied.

“You may very well be the only one in London. I know a fair share who would have been eager to _personally_ parse out fact from fiction.”

Hux’s vision turned red. To think she would even mention such a thing… It was far too much!

“Including you?” he spat out

“After repeated experiences, I have determined that I prefer shorter men.”

The shamelessness of her. How terribly unfair, that she could permit herself to be so uncaring about her deviances.

For the first time since he made Phasma’s acquaintance, he direly wished to throttle her. It seemed the only way to silence her, to stop her from speaking of things he could not abide.

“I do not wish to hear about it,” he hissed.

Phasma recoiled at that, though not so much in fear as in confusion. “It was a scientific method. I thought you would appreciate it.” Though there was still humor in her voice, it was far more tentative and strained. It seemed she was only now realizing that his objections were genuine, and not just part of their banter.

“Your affairs are your own, to manage as you will. There is no need to _flaunt_.”

Phasma’s teasing expression vanished completely, dissolved by the bile in his voice. Her features sobered completely. “My apologies, I thought this conversation far more lighthearted than it appears to be.” Though she kept her tone cordial, there was no hiding the anger in her voice.  “Worry not, Lord Hux. I will keep my _sordid tales_ private.”

“How private can it be when half of London suspects?” Hux scoffed. “You take far too many risks.There will be consequences, inevitably.”

“I know myself. I know my limits.” Maddeningly, Phasma retained her confidence and composure, even in her anger. “I have played this game long enough to know what I can manage.”

“So many women have thought the same. And then rumors become known fact when they are caught in bed with a man. Or a bastard suddenly appears in her womb. The only way one can be sure nothing will go awry is to not indulge at all.”

“I will take my chances.”

“All gamblers lose in the end,” Hux retorted immediately. “Worry not, I will be of assistance should that happen. To be wed and claim the bastard, an old bargain but a profitable one.” Vicious words, he knew, yet he could not stop them from pouring out of his mouth. “I would certainly profit from it. There are worse fates than being Lord of Coruscounty.”

“Enough!”

Phasma did not rise from her seat. She did not shout, she barely moved at all. Yet her voice cut through the air as sharply as a whip, hitting Hux with enough force to halt his spiraling thoughts in their track.

Her expression was stony to the point of being cold, with none of the irreverence or comradery Hux had grown accustomed to seeing in her features. He was struck by how unpleasant a sight it was. And all by his own doing.

He usually held a tight rein on his emotions, even his anger; yet it was plain to see he had gone too far with his words, and had truly angered the Lady. It might have been an acceptable outcome, had it been his intent. But the plain truth was that he hadn’t thought much at all, only reacted.

Phasma’s voice was as hard as steel when she next spoke. “You will cease that line of conversation. I do not care for your implications and slanderous supposition; I know my worth, as do you on when you are in your right mind.” Her eyes narrowed, and her voice turned lower still. “And more importantly, you will _not_ speak of taking advantage of whatever downfall you imagine myself victim of. I am not a purse full of riches for you to pocket, or one of your pawns to be moved as you please.”

Hux swallowed. “I would not dream of it.”

“Won’t you?” Phasma retorted drily. “I highly esteem your ambition, Lord Hux. I appreciate you enough that I might even assist you in fulfilling it. But it will be as an ally, nothing else.”

“And I would have it no other way,” said Hux, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Phasma was unimpressed. “And yet, you have yet to apologize for your insinuations.”

Hux looked away. Though he had been raised never to grant any apology of any sort, he could not deny the shame rising within one, one that stemmed from far more than his harsh words towards a woman he considered a friend.

He should not have allowed himself to be so carried away. It was a sign of a weak character, of how thoroughly affected he was by… Well, many things, most of them revolving around Ren.

He took a deep breath.

Self-improvement was the mark of greatness. He needed to cure himself of this weakness of his, or at the very least find a way to forever contain it. His mastery over himself needed to remain absolute. For the longest time it had been – that is, until Ren.

The solution was plain, really, akin to cutting out the rot of a festering wound: Hux needed to cut Ren out of his life, and ignore the painful twisting in his chest at the thought.

But more immediately, he needed to make amends with the Lady Phasma, whom he respected far too greatly to bear her righteous anger.

“You are right,” he said, eyes lightly downcast, hoping to convey a humility he was unfamiliar with expressing. “My behavior was unworthy of both my character and your tolerance. Please, forgive me.”

Phasma stared at him a while longer, the nodded once. It was a curt, sharp gesture, but it was enough for Hux to let his shoulders sag in relief.

“I was pleased to have you in my company, as I often am,” she said, and Hux was pleased to find her voice less clipped and less heated already. “But you seem of prickly disposition today, which makes me wonder what you were hoping would come from this encounter.”

“I fear I may have overexerted myself this past month, and my temper has suffered as a result,” Hux said demurely.

Phasma pursed her lips, obviously unconvinced; however, she did not push the issue. “If a rich wife is all you are looking for, I can certainly direct you towards a debutante ready to succumb to your charms. I know of a particularly vapid one I could easily send your way – though I might advise you not to speak of bastards you would be willing to legitimize; you may find it is not a charming as you believe it to be.”

Hux felt a stab of irritation at her jab, but wisely pushed it down. “You are harsh, my Lady. Is there nothing I can do to earn your forgiveness?”

Phasma raised a brow at that. “I do not hold grudges on worthless words. But you have irritated me, and I see no reason to pretend otherwise.”

Hux opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed. “That is fair.”

“And now he is so conciliatory,” Phasma drawled. She rolled her eyes. “Well, at least you will know how to handle a domestic dispute, should you ever wed.”

“I am not yet willing to take a wife. There is still much to be done before I could hold decent claim to a woman of an influential family.”

“My, Hux. If this is how you talk of marriage, I am curious as to how you envision courtship.”

“A necessary evil,” Hux sniffed. “Though I believe I will take it on as I do any other task?”

“With conspicuous disappearances and a foul mood resulting?”

“Ah, but will you give me no respite?! I have seen bloodhounds with less stubbornness,” Hux huffed. “I have apologized for my words, and I did not mean to neglect you the past weeks.”

“You haven’t neglected me,” Phasma replied evenly. She took a sip of her tea. “The only person you have been neglecting is yourself, though I would wager that isn’t a new habit of yours.”

“Abnegation in the face of a greater cause is hardly self-neglect!” Hux protested. “Temporary sacrifices are required.”

Phasma’s eyes bore into his. “And how temporary are these sacrifices?”

Hux held her gaze. “A man must know where his priorities lie.”

For a time, Phasma said nothing, contemplating his words with pursed lips. Whatever conclusion she came to must have been unsatisfactory, for she closed her eyes and shook her head with a sigh.

“What a life you lead, Lord Hux. I certainly do not envy it of you.”

Hux bristled at that. “I may not hold the same social standing as you, but -”

“I don’t speak of that. I speak of your _plans_.” She leaned back into her chair, brows furrowed in what might have been concern. “Everything is a plan or a plot, and there is always work to be done and a battle to be thought. How exhausting.”

“It is necessary.”

 “Lead your life as you wish,” she said carefully. “But since you have seen fit to pass judgement on my choices earlier, I shall permit myself the same. You might find satisfaction in your work, but there are other means of being _satisfied_ that will also allow you release from the tension that you are so obviously accumulating.”

“How crass,” Hux mumbled, before lifting his chin in defiance.  “You concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. If anything, I have strayed too much from my goals. This conversation has served as a reminder of them and the dedication I need. I thank you for that.”

Phasma looked unconvinced, but did not press the issue further. “You’re welcome, I suppose. As long as you know what you want.”

“Of course I know. I have known since I was five.”

“What happened when you were five?”

Maratelle Hux gave birth to a son, is what happened. The true firstborn, the true heir, and even at five Armitage knew that the screaming babe inside its cradle was his doom. By some luck, the child – his half-brother – was of too weak a constitution to survive past his fourth birthday, but it had barely mattered then. Hux had already known life as an unwanted blight, worse than the unsatisfactory substitute he had been before.

As the gravediggers had lowered that small coffin, Hux had resolved to never let himself be brought so low again. Even when Maratelle grew fat with children once more, Hux had strived to ensure that his father would never be able to discard him completely. It had been easy, when his next half-siblings had been a decade younger than him; easier still when they passed away young as well.

“I saw a military parade,” he said evenly. 

Phasma stared at him a long while, before nodding. She said nothing more, and let him have his lies.

**~*~**

Though his resolve to keep Ren at a distance was genuine, it proved much harder to put into practice than anticipated.

The Force was central to the device’s design, and as such Ren’s expertise was not only essential, but irreplaceable. Though Hux had initially attempted to continue by relying solely on information Ren had already shared, as he came closer and closer to a working prototype he found new issues and inquiries that he simply could not get past without Ren’s input.

He had attempted it anyway, and had been rewarded with insomnia, failure, and the unpleasant knowledge that he was wasting precious time. After having finally admitted that Ren’s presence would have too negative an impact on his productivity and drive, external forces illustrated that his absence would be just as detrimental to the cause. A week and a half with virtually no progress made was evidence enough.

Damn the man! Nothing was ever simple when he was involved!

Nevertheless, Hux had persevered. If physical distance was unattainable, then emotional distance would have to suffice. He resolved to be as cold as possible towards Ren, keeping their relationship purely professional and just cordial enough for them to still be able to work together.

That too had proved more difficult than anticipated.

Distant and harsh behavior were second nature to Hux, yet he found that with Ren it no longer came naturally. Though his sharp tongue had been ever present, time had overlaid it with a fondness that had, undoubtedly, been reciprocated. It had made their times together challenging and pleasant both.

Hux missed it, for all that he recognized the necessary sacrifice.

Ren’s reaction certainly didn’t help. He did not even have the decency to give into the temper Hux knew he possessed.

Several times, Ren came close to snapping. Hux would have welcomed it, as it would have given him a valid pretext to push him even further away. Yet every time Ren’s eyes clouded with rage, the other man closed them and took several slow, heavy breaths. When his eyes opened once more, they would still contain words of irritation, but none of the overpowering fury Hux knew Ren was capable of.

No, what Hux mainly saw in them was hurt and confusion. At which point he looked away and affected deep concentration on his calculations.

Ren would never say a word in complaint. He grew sullen, he pouted, he left with a saddened mien and returned with a more guarded expression, but he still proved far more patient than Hux would have ever expected (and, quite frankly deserved).

Damn the man.

That pattern lasted for little over a week. Ren came every day, despite Hux cold behavior, and Hux welcomed him in, never quite managing to be harsh enough to chase him away for good. The two of them worked for a full, tense day. It was not nearly as pleasant as their previous work together, but it was still effective: a full ten days later, and Hux had finally built his first working prototype.

Today was to be the day of their first test. Hux wondered if Ren had put his prickly disposition on the account of rising pressure and nervousness.

If so, he wouldn’t have been entirely wrong. Hux’s mind was a mess of anxiety, elation, impatience and dread, all wrapped in constant doubt as to whether his calculations would prove correct in this crucial moment. Keeping a rein of his frazzled thoughts was a difficult task, as he was often tempted to jump from one task to the next before finishing any of them, the relentless doubt that he had left a mistake go uncorrected nearly overpowering his usual methodical approach. 

His need to be on all fronts was somewhat compensated by the assistance he had at his disposal. Ren, of course, but Mitaka as well. His butler had been requisitioned as additional hands, though he had little idea what precisely Hux was working on.

There was no one else best suited for the task. Mitaka had already served under Hux once when fighting the Russians, and the current atmosphere within Hux’s workshop was not unlike that of a battlefield.

“Ren!” Hux barked for the hundredth time that day. He didn’t even look at the man as he spoke, still hovering over the machinery as he fine-tuned the more delicate settings. “Rotate the oscillator twenty three degrees! Both my hands are already occupied. And by God, do not stain the glass with your fingers!”

Ren grunted in acknowledgment, sullen but compliant. Hux barely made note of it; these were far too crucial a time for him to worry about Ren, beyond ensuring he would do as told.

He barely even noticed how Ren’s hands contrasted sharply with his own as Ren reached over for the oscillator and began shifting it with the Force. Large fingers proved far more dexterous than Hux might have imagined, and the heat from his body combined with the slight vibrancy of his powers created a potent aura that ghosted over Hux’s hand, caressing the delicate skin on the back of his hand and -

“Like this, Hux?”

“Pardon?” Hux blurted out, before remembering the task he had just doled out. His cheeks reddened in embarrassment, though he hoped it would pass for irritation. “Oh… yes. Yes.” He straightened himself. “Thank you, Ren. That will be all.”

Ren raised an eyebrow at that, a stunned yet pleased half-smile on his face. “You have never thanked me before.”

“And seeing how it so obviously perturbs you, I shan’t again.” Hux snapped. “Mitaka!” he called, running a hand through his hair as he stalked back behind the security of his desk. “Get me a glass of bourbon. Two fingers wide, I still need my wits about me.” He turned back towards Ren. “Move away from the device now! You will break if you hover so closely!”

Ren’s features shifted into a scowl. “Where shall I put myself then?” he asked, visibly holding his tongue.

“Must I tell you everything?” Hux huffed. “Fine. Stand against the wall.”

Ren exhaled heavily, and went to sit on a chair near the window. Hux ignored him, returning to his calculations to verify them a tenth and final time.

He was disturbed not three minutes later.

“My Lord?” came Mitaka timid voice from his left.

“What?” Hux snapped, looking up.

His footman stood a safe distance from him, hands tightly gripping a silver tray with a single glass upon it. “The bourbon, my Lord.”

Hux frowned at the tray, before gesturing wildly towards the table beside him. “Place it on my right.”

Mitaka complied promptly, but did not leave as soon as his duty was done. Instead he lingered, shifting distractingly on his feat as he summoned the courage to garner Hux’s attention. “My Lord. Might I be permitted the evening off on this coming Wednesday?”

“Pardon?”

“I have personal matters to attend. My mother, you see.” Mitaka’s voice was surprisingly steady as he voiced his request. “Might I be permitted an evening off on Wednesday?” At Hux’s lack of immediate response, he flustered once more. “After all my duties are done, of course….”

Hux was no longer listening.  “Yes, yes. Fine,” he mumbled, turning back to his sheets of paper. “You may go.”

He didn’t hear Mitaka leave the room. He did not particularly care; there was still work to be done.

His tenth readthrough had revealed no flaw in his work, but such things had a tendency to reveal themselves at the worst possible time. Perhaps an eleventh time might…?

“Hux.”

Hux blinked. He hadn’t realized Ren had risen from his chair, nor that he had walked over towards him. “What is it, Ren?”

“This will work,” Ren said with the utmost confidence. His lips pulled into a shadow of a smile, tentative reassurance he was visibly unsure Hux would accept. “Do not worry.”

“… Thank you, Ren,” Hux said after a moment, surprised to find himself somewhat comforted by those words. “But we will only be sure after we execute proper test.”

Ren glanced at the device, which was still perched on the platform in the center of the room, the back at Hux. “On your command.”

Hux nodded once.

Without another word, he placed himself behind his worktable, in front of which a net had been set up as a crude safety precaution. Ren followed without a word, standing beside him as they both stared at the device Hux had created.

It looked more like a trinket than a true weapon. A red crystal encased in a copper frame, which in turn was framed by several concentric circles of made of different alloys of Hux’s own creation. The outer frame was in the shape of a slightly distorted sphere, cut through the center to reveal the power source within.

On Hux’s signal, Ren extended his palm, and the crystal began to glow. Try as he might, Hux had proved incapable of initiating the resonance he sought through purely scientific means alone, and thus had been forced to rely on Ren’s powers to initiate the process.

As the crystal’s glow intensified, the metal circles began rotating around their axis, faster and faster as the red light became nearly blinding. Then, just as Hux believed the whole system might overflow with energy, five beams of light burst from the device. There was a strange thickness to them, a type of solidity Hux had never expected he would see in such an intangible substance as light.

All five beams shot forward, straight onto five wooden blocks Hux had placed in their path. There was a bright flare as they hit their target, forcing Hux to shield his eyes with his hand.

When the light dissipated, the crystal was no longer glowing, and the metal circles were slowly ceasing their rotation with nothing left to power them.

And the wooden blocks were gone, replaced by five piles of sawdust.

It was… perfect. All according to his calculations. Everything he had hoped, and more. Perfect destruction, of unheard precision.

The first and only weapon of its kind.

“This is… unprecedented. This…” His lips stretched into a smile, so wide it hurt, and Hux could think of nothing more satisfying. “We have done it, Ren!”

“You did this,” Ren said gently, pride lacing his voice. “You were the mind behind the design.”

“Yes, true, though your expertise did help.” In his excitement, Hux could barely keep track of what he was saying. Words were pouring out of him as quickly as his thoughts raced. “I did this. I… This is the most impressive invention in the History of Creation! And it is only the beginning. Now that I have the basic mechanism sorted out, I can work on amplifying its effect! The dispersion effect already works in our favor, and this was only a small shard! I wonder if…”

He paused when he caught sight of Ren, whose eyes were filled with such fondness that Hux felt his words get stuck in his throat. He felt himself blush. “What is it, Ren?”

Ren shook his head, chuckling all the while. “Your enthusiasm. I enjoy it, is all.”

Hux opened his mouth, closed it, then turned around to hide his ever-worsening blush. “Well, I’m glad,” he said, speaking quickly as he attempted to find something to busy himself with. “If you would-”

“Hux.”

It wasn’t the hand gently grasping his elbow that stopped him. It was the voice, the way it spoke his name. The same overload of emotion that so characterized Ren shone through once again, only this time rather than becoming a jumbled mess of thoughts battling each other, every single feeling worked in synergy to project one single message.

A message Hux received far too loudly and far too clearly, for it was simply Ren repeating what Hux’s traitorous soul had been screaming for weeks already.

“Yes?” he forced out. He couldn’t stop his voice from trembling.

But better his voice than his knees, which were already beginning to weaken at the sight of Ren’s face, which suddenly seemed so very close and so very captivating. Dark eyes filled with such _tenderness_ Hux found himself weaponless against them. The hand that still rested upon his arm, gently sliding up until it rested upon Hux’s shoulder. The collar of Hux’s shirt was undone to the second button; Ren’s thumb rested upon it, just shy of brushing against Hux’s skin.

“Congratulations,” Ren said.

Soft spoken praise in a deep baritone, Hux could feel its echo all the way into his soul. It made him breathless.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hux could feel the rational part of himself screaming at him, reminding him of the resolution he had so firmly adopted. However, it was so difficult to hear it over the pounding of his heart, the quickening of his breath. The white noise in his mind, a reflection of the glow that lit up somewhere deep within his chest.

His mouth felt so very dry; he licked his lips.

Ren’s smile softened even further, though there was a glint in his eyes that spoke.

“I have never known someone as brilliant as you. It is enthralling,” he murmured. He brought the back of his fingers to Hux’s cheek, and Hux, wretched that he was, let him. “A beautiful mind to compliment a beautiful face. Or perhaps it is the other way around? I honestly do not know which one captured me first.” He shook his head. “But no, it must have been both. Upon the first meeting. Why else would I have made the Major General bring you into our folds?”

Hux blinked rapidly. “You what?”

“I saw steel in you. I wanted to know more. And then I… Well, look at us now.” Ren chuckled, self-deprecating. “It took me quite by surprise. I had known lust before, but this is… _desire._ I had never appreciated the difference before.”

“Ren… You fool. What are you _saying?_ ”

“What one of us has to, less we both go mad.”

Ren brought his hand under Hux’s chin, tilting it up until Hux’s eyes bore directly into his. So close was he his breath brushed against Hux’s lip as he spoke.

“Don’t be afraid; I feel it too.”

Hux held back a keen, barely. Oh, but the weakness of him! And how easily Ren appealed to the most shameful parts of himself. 

“Ren… You need to back away,” he said, weakly; far too weakly.

Of course Ren did not listen. Why would he, when Hux was barely able to convince himself? “I know. I _know,_ Hux,” Ren whispered, and though he tried to sound soothing there was no hiding the elation that was pouring out of him. “I heard it. How could I not? You were all but screaming it to me, once I but listened.”

Hux blinked rapidly, his mind slowly piecing together the meaning behind words. The alarm that came with the realization allowed some sharpness to return to his muddled thoughts. “You said you haven’t intruded into my mind for weeks!”

“I told the truth then. And made a liar of myself in the following moments. I needed to know, and you guard yourself far too well.” When Hux began pulling away, Ren pressed on. “It is well that I did. So long I spent in yearning, my hunger growing ravenous the more I was beside you. I was so certain that the fruit I craved would be ripped away should I dare to reach out for it. Yet I could not stop myself from edging ever so closer towards that invisible limit.”

“You saw yourself as Tantalus,” Hux said in a shaky breath. “Did you not know he was punished by the gods?”

“His agony was never ending. Mine… Ours… A word from you and I would lavish you with far sweeter torments. Do you not see Hux? You may have me. I am yours for the taking.”

The word crashed upon Hux with the weight a thousand boulders.

_Taking._

He could see it, oh, how clearly he could see it! All the fantasies he had not allowed himself to dwell on, that he had sequestered in the back of his mind, came pouring forth in an all-consuming wave. Flashes of Ren’s hands, his shoulders, the frame of him as he completely engulfs Hux. And Hux would see for himself what prowess a man of such scandal might be capable of. Ren would lavish him with attention, putting all of himself into their activities as he did all things. And Hux would receive it, would be taken, until he was falling apart and -

No.

No. No, he will not… He will not let himself be so destroyed.

He had worked far too hard for his perdition to come now.

Hux opened his eyes, which had fluttered closed, and met Ren’s foolishly eager gaze.

“I know what I want, Ren,” he said, putting within his words all the scorn, anger, _disgust_ that inhabited his being. “You are most definitely not it.”

Ren’s eyes widened, and he recoiled as if struck.

Hux found little satisfaction in the sight, but held firm on his mocking expression. Ren stared at him a long time, eyes narrowing before he exhaled heavily in dejection, or hurt. His expression hardened.

“It seems I am not the only liar here,” he said quietly, completely confident in his denial of Hux’s rejection.

“We are nothing alike. Beyond _your deviances,_ ” Hux spat out. “which I would never dream to allow to sully me, I am capable of recognizing a terrible idea when I see one.”

Rather than close in upon himself further, Ren smirked. “So you admit to wanting it.”

“I admit to unfortunate side effects of unnatural desires and your relative proximity,” Hux retorted, cursing himself for his slip up. Ren was unperturbed by the rebuttal, advancing towards Hux once more even as Hux continued with his speech. “You saw a glimpse of a thought, and believed you knew my mind entire. If you knew me at all, you know I would not fail to rise above such unfortunate inclinations.”

“Oh, I know you, Armitage Hux,” Ren murmured, voice so low as to be predatory. He took a further step with each word that he spoke. Being so close to the wall already, Hux had no choice but to let him close the distance between the two of them once more. “I know what you want, I know the mold you would model yourself after. I know you would sooner cut of a limb than risk not fitting within it. And I know,” he whispered, bringing his hand to rest so very low upon Hux’s waist. “I _know_ that you very nearly have, denying yourself so thoroughly a part of you is dying. And you will smother what is left of it through stubbornness and fear.”

The accusation made Hux bristle, enough to distract him from the feel of Ren’s hands upon him. “A lack of recklessness and carelessness is not _fear,_ Lord Ren. I happen to have-”

“Ah yes, your _plan._ That which keeps you warm at night as you shun away any companionship. Or perhaps you think of taking a wife in the future? A demure little thing, just enough to maintain appearances. Just enough to tell yourself that you are not lonely.” Ren scoffed. “And what would you do with a wife, if you were to take one? Nothing much, I can tell. You don’t have the _appetite_ for it. But worry not, my Lord. It is only till death does you part.” He leaned closer until his breath was a ghostly caress against Hux’s cheek, to match the hand trailing along Hux’s thighs. “I can give you a little death.”

Hux’s was frozen in place by Ren’s voice, his words, the sensation of his hand as it moved closer and closer to the shameful stiffness Hux could not suppress. The desire that had flared up despite himself, fed by the heat of Ren’s gaze and hands and the predatory air that had caught Hux’s eyes from the moment he had laid eyes on Ren.

Any second now, Ren would reach his inner thigh, would feel the fullness of Hux’s desire. He would know how affected Hux truly was, the undeniable evidence of his weakness -

He pushed Ren away. Violently.

Ren crashed into the table behind him, sending several instruments clattering on the floor. Hux did not care. He barely heard it.

He was panting, loudly, both from the exertion and barely avoided damnation.

“There is much work to be done. I shan’t have you bothering me.” He drew himself taller, a poor compensation at how small he felt. “Get out.”

For the first time, Ren looked unsure of himself. Maybe even remorseful – not that it mattered. “Hux, I…”

“Get out,” he repeated, voice louder and louder into he was all but shrieking. “Get out! _Get out!_ ”

He did not stop yelling, not while Ren tried to speak, not while Mitaka came bursting into the room only to be roughly chased away. Not until Ren finally left, giving up or scared away, and the door of Hux’s workshop closed behind him; then Hux let himself collapse against the wall, and bury his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Head's up: as you may have noticed, my posting schedule has shifted slightly. I have started a new internship in the hospital, and with regular 24h shifts involved - which basically mean a full 48h of being incapacitated as I am basically useless the next day - I can't stick to the same 5 day schedule I had initially planned. So we're going to go with a weekly update, every saturday, and the occasional surprise thrown in. Sorry for the inconvenience! 
> 
> Kudos and reviews are love! I live for feedback! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ART IN THIS CHAPTER! As usual, it was done by the incomparable [GallifreyanOmnishambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/works). Be sure to check out their work on AO3 and tumblr! 
> 
> Also, infinite thanks to [mousiesshi](http://mousiesshi.tumblr.com//) for their incredible support and their invaluable help as a beta. This fic is much better for their involvement.

As a child, Hux had witnessed many once fine men reduced to an empty shell, the consequences of their own cowardice as they attempted to flee their troubles by hiding in a bottle of wine. Hux remembered looking upon them, and even as a youth he had felt nothing but scorn. It had been clear to him then: strong minds solved their issues, weak ones fled from them by weakening themselves even further.

How low Hux had fallen.

He had nearly finished the bottle of bourbon. He had opened it not one hour ago.

It was all Ren’s fault.

And his own.

That terrible weakness, that deviance he had tried so hard to bury within him, finally coming to ruin him. As he always feared it might.

Ren had left, had been chased away, and Hux was left paralyzed by the conflicting urges to run after him and to simply curl into a ball, and tear into his scalp until all feelings ceased.

It was preposterous, the state of him. He had done as he wanted, as he had always wanted; he had resisted his own weakness, had resisted the temptation of Ren. He had succeeded, for Ren was gone and would most likely not return; Hux was safe from him.

Yet it was that victory that made him wish to claw at his own chest.

Ren was gone. He would never come back.

Hux couldn’t stand the thought.

So he had drunk. A lot.

But even through the soft blanket of inebriation, he could still feel the claws of the utter _misery_ that had plagued him ever since Ren had left. A pain so sharp it cut through everything in its way, stabbing at his chest so relentlessly that Hux could hardly breathe.

And everywhere he looked, he felt another stab as memories assaulted him. Every room, every object held an association to Ren, to a time he had been there and said something that had made Hux huff or snicker. All of it reminders of the comfortable rhythm he had fallen into, of a time of intellectual stimulation and challenging companionship, of the way of life he had so enjoyed with Ren at his side. Of what Hux had renounced in the name of ambition.

His own home had become a temple to times spent with Ren, and thus had become hostile to him.

He couldn’t stay.

The thought repeated itself in his mind, finally pushing him out of his chair. It repeated itself like a mantra, warding off further memories as well as any true knowledge of his own actions.

He barely noticed himself stumbling out onto the street, or hailing a coach. He barely heard himself giving an address, or throwing forty pounds in the driver’s hands.

His only moment of true clarity came as he was waiting on the front porch of the Phasma mansion, leaning heavily against the door – and thus nearly crashing forward when Phasma opened it in a violent movement.

“What in Hell’s name are you doing here?” she hissed. She most likely would have yelled at him, had the hour of the day permitted it. “It is past midnight!”

“I…” Hux started, but no other word came.

There was little he could say that would not make him appear utterly pathetic.

Phasma looked him over, and huffed. “Get in!” she ordered, pulling him forward by his vest.

“Phasma, I….”

“Not now,” she cut him off sharply. “I shouldn’t have bothered asking. It is obvious you are not in your right mind.”

“I am not,” Hux mumbled, miffed despite the circumstances. “I am perfectly coherent.”

“You come to my home in the dead of night, reeking of liquor and with a look of mourning painted upon your face.”

“I needed to speak… You said you were alone in your home…”

Phasma scoffed. “My apologies. I now see that this was a well-thought out endeavor, and I must apologize for ever doubting it.”

Hux had no response to give.

Still mumbling beneath her breath, Phasma half-escorted, half-dragged him up the stairs. Hux noted with some relief that there were no servants to be seen, though whether they were all asleep or simply chose to make themselves scarce he did not know.

He tensed when he heard a third set of footsteps rushing towards them. Flinching, he turned around, and came face to face to what could only be a hallucination brought on by alcohol.

“Mitaka?!”

“My Lord!” His footman came rushing towards him, very present and very real. “Is everything well?”

Hux took in the sight of him, in his night garments which were only half buttoned. “What are you doing here?!”

“Oh, are you going to act indignant too? You have no right to ask questions,” Phasma snapped as she pushed him through the doorway towards an empty bedroom. “For the record, it is exactly what it looks like.”

“You… and he…?”

“Yes.”

His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, before he renounced making sense of things and let out a low a groan.  “I need another glass of bourbon.”

Mitaka pursed his lips. “I shall prepare some chamomile,” he said with authority.

His eyes caught Phasma’s, and two shared a look that must have carried a thousand words between them but that Hux could not understand. He left the room without a further word.

Hux watched him go, throat tight. After the initial shock that had hit him, came an even more terrible fall into despair and a potent sense of loss.

There was no denying the intimacy between the two of them. It hung in the air, in the way they moved around each other, in the way they purposefully did not touch each other in Hux’s presence. It was scandalous, this tryst of theirs; beyond their difference in status, the fact that they would engage in such activities out of wedlock. That they would take each other as lovers, and come together at night to seek companionship and passion in each other. It was all scandalous.

It was also unfair. Somehow, it was all terribly unfair.

“Sit down, Hux,” Phasma said, her voice soft despite the clear order.

Dumbly, Hux complied.

Phasma remained standing, looking at him in silent contemplation before sighing. “What happened?”

Hux let out a laugh; it was not a fully sane sound. “Ren. Ren happened,” he answered. “And then he kept on happening, even when I wanted… when I…” He shook his head, closing his eyes.  “He seeks to ruin me, Phasma.”

“Does he?” Phasma asked, in a humiliatingly humoring manner. “How so?”

“He…I….” No matter how much Hux tried to express it, it was impossible to voice his grievances without damning himself in turn. Several times, he opened his mouth only to close it immediately afterwards, growing more and more distressed by the second. Phasma seemed very content in merely watching him drown; it was that added shame that finally made him blurt out: “You know the man’s reputation! Surely you cannot doubt his perfidiousness!”

“I do know his reputation. I know also know the manner in which he looks at you, and the way his very self seems to transform itself in your presence. I know that the past week your every word revolved around him in some manner.” She looked at him intently. “If I were to combine everything I know, it makes quite a picture.”

“I…” Hux swallowed. It was a struggle not to look away. “He irritates me. That I speak so much of him is nothing but the mark of my constant exasperation. Nothing else.”

It was a poor lie, his poorest yet, and he could tell that Phasma did not believe him. She merely stared at him, gaze still and steady and most cruel of all, soft. She had renounced her previous harshness in favor of patience and gentleness.

It made him feel so terribly brittle.

“Nothing else, Phasma,” he repeated, and he hated how thin his voice had grown. How high-pitched and pathetic it was as there was no hiding the naked _desperation_ that permeated each word.

For Phasma had to believe him, she _had to_ , but she would not. She would not because it wasn’t true, because Hux felt something far different from mere _irritation_. Because Hux felt something he shouldn’t, and she knew, oh _Lord,_ she knew…!

“How long have you wanted him, Hux?” she asked softly.

And thus she ruined him.

Hux had too look away, clenching his jaw to keep the tears he felt prickling at the corner of his eyes from falling. He did not know if they stemmed from shame, or grief, or even perhaps the terrifying relief that _she knew._ She probably had for a long time, and he had fooled himself into thinking otherwise. It was easy to do, when he could hardly admit to himself that he had let himself do something as terribly foolish as _wanting Ren._

“And how long have you known that he wanted you back?”

The second question hurt just as much as the first. “I had… guessed some time ago, I should say,” Hux admitted, before letting out a humorless laugh.  “Though he made his intentions clear very recently. Forcefully, despite my rejection he continued and I… I cannot stand such disrespect, of course. He couldn’t think I would accept, after what he has _done_ …”

“If his forceful advances are the true reason you would refuse, then I place neither blame nor judgement,” Phasma said plainly. “But we both know it is not the case.”

Hux closed his eyes.

Denial had left him entirely, lies did not convince Phasma. What else was left other than honesty?

Ah, but he had not been bred for such things. Vulnerability was nothing but a blight to be purged, especially the kind that stemmed from that which he could never have hoped to confess to.

So long had he tried to destroy that part of himself, he found he could no longer so much as put words to it. Hux’s own soul felt foreign to him, a language he had never let himself become fluent in.

Hux spoke, and what came out was only the vaguest approximation of what he felt within him.

“I am being torn apart…”

Phasma did not answer right away. Hux hated it, for it meant his admission hung in the air that much longer, having more than enough time to bloom and swell until it became all encompassing. When Phasma sat down beside him, he nearly flinched.

“There comes a time when even the keenest strategist must admit to having conceived a poor plan,” she said, voice soft and almost mournful. “Look at the state of you. Is it worth it?”

“It is the only way,” Hux mumbled, the words becoming almost meaningless to him from how often he repeated them. “I cannot…. It isn’t for me, I have a _plan_ , I cannot…”

“My Lord?”

Hux looked up, exhausted and confused, to find Mitaka offering a cup of tea to him. His eyes were gentle, and filled with worry; a perfect match to his voice.

“Chamomile, my Lord.”

Hux took the cup gingerly, but did not drink it. He found that he couldn’t, the mere act of nourishing himself too complicated for his exhausted, battered mind. So he simply stared at it for a long while, letting himself get overwhelmed by feelings of loss and helplessness; there seemed to be no way out of this that did not lead to misery or damnation, or both.

The whole of him felt so very small, so small as to drown in that cup of tea prepared by a worried servant. That was, perhaps, the most hopeful option left to him.

Phasma sighed once more.

“Sleep, Hux,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It will solve nothing, but it is a start.”

**~*~**

Hux only had the vaguest memories of the next morning.

He wished he could simply blame the alcohol, but his foggy recollections had more to do with the fog of misery that still clung to him when he awakened from restless slumber. He dimly recalled Mitaka pulling him out of the guest bedroom, smuggling him through the mansion’s halls to avoid being seen by the servants, escorting him back home. Hux had only felt a most distant sense of shame.

He had gone through the rest of the day as an automaton, following his each and every ritual through muscle memory alone. Mitaka played along with that pretense of normalcy, making no reference to Hux’s shameful behavior the night before, something Hux was grateful for. His footman also made no effort in hiding the concerned looks he gave his master, something Hux appreciated far less.

To prove a point, he did not ask for any more liquor.

Of course, Ren had made an attempt to ruin that resolve as well.

Two days later, Hux stepped into his study to find his mail placed on his desk, as was habitual. As he sorted through the urgent from that which could be disposed of unread, he came across an envelope whereupon Hux’s home address was written in a very familiar hand.

With shaking hands, he opened it to find a single, cream colored card upon which the shortest, bluntest and most destructive of messages was written.

_I am sorry. I miss you dearly._

_\- K.R_

Hux had stared for what may have been an eternity, heart too full for words to form. Instead, he had felt his face scrunch up in an expression he knew would be unsightly to anyone who might enter the room. With shaking hands, he brought the note card to his lips, pressing it to them in something that was not quite and kiss, and inhaling sharply with the dim hope that he might sense familiar cologne.

Then, furious at himself, he had torn it apart until it was unsalvageable, then stormed out of the room lest he be tempted to collect the pieces anyway.

That note was the sole moment of sharpness in his week. The rest was filled with nothing more than interchangeable moments of routine alternating with moments spent laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a mind empty of everything save screeching longing.

Tonight, however, he could not give in to the despondency to which he had accustomed himself. The ball organized by the Thanissons was tonight, a gathering he had little desire to attend, filled with people he had little desire to see.

Nevertheless, he would go, for appearances must be upheld. Moreover, he was not so flooded with invitations that he could refuse a new opportunity to build connections.

Hux laughed at himself at the thought; building connections, what a useful lie. Given the current state of him, he doubted he would be able to make any sort of conversation.

On another day, he might have mentally slapped himself for such defeatism. As it was, he merely sighed, put on his gloves and left the room to put on his coat.

It did not take long to reach the venue, which was a ballroom of moderate size and moderate taste. The curtains were slightly faded from age, the area reserved for dancing too small for the number of guests invited. Small elements of poor planning that showed that it was indeed a Thanisson who had organized the evening.

Hux spotted some of the officers he had talked to briefly during their meetings at the _New Imperium_ , and made his way towards them. It was easy enough to integrate himself with the conversation, as his rising status within their plot granted him a certain air of authority in their eyes.

The familiar topic of battle strategies and past glory was an easy one to follow. Hux chose to view it as a practice run, allowing him to get back into the habit of socializing with the mediocre whilst scouting for true opportunity. It was also an easy chance to shine, as he knew that even distracted his comments were twice as insightful as any of his peers.

Still, the conversation was frightfully dull, and the circle it implicated extremely limited. Truly, there was little reason to spend his evening with these people rather than with someone he appreciated.

With an internal sigh, he resolved to find Phasma and face her for the first time since that regrettable evening. A quick excuse was all it took to detangle himself from the conversation and he soon found himself navigating the sea of people once more.

Unlike his first ball, it took him a long while to cross the room. Every four steps or so was someone for him to greet, exchange a few trite words with before moving on to a next acquaintance. In other circumstances, he might have enjoyed this clear mark of his social progress. Tonight, he was simply not in the mood.

Hux frowned at himself. It was distressing, how thoroughly he could be transformed by a small incident from over a week ago. Well, not one incident so much as one _man,_ and Hux couldn’t help but wonder how far back _he_ had exerted such influence upon Hux, when -

His thoughts stopped in their track.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear in a dark suit with a red lining.

Ren was there, as Hux knew he would be. The sight of him still felt like a hard punch to his stomach.

Hux thought Ren would storm across the room to meet him,

Instead, Ren inclined his head with extreme respect, though he never quite broke eye-contact with Hux.

Hux looked away. He walked away as quickly as his weakening knees allowed.

Of course, it was soon after that encounter that he finally found Phasma. As usual, she was seated in a corner of the ballroom, letting others come to her as if she were the Queen receiving in her court.

As soon as she spotted him, she raised a highly eloquent eyebrow. A comment on his demeanor, he knew, and though it soured his mood he went up to her nonetheless.

“Lord Hux,” she greeted, over enunciating each word as she looked him over. “Are you well?”

“Why should I not be?” His tone was clipped, he knew; right at this moment, it mattered little to him.

Phasma opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a loud burst of music, announcing that the first dance was about to take place. Hux turned his head mechanically, eyeing the participants in bored convention.

He nearly choked on his own breath when he spotted _them._

Lady Thanisson was taking center stage among a crowd of dancers, as was her right as the eldest daughter of the host. Her smile was wide, smug, and her eyes utterly infatuated as she looked at the man escorting her.

Ren returned her gaze with a smile, gently escorting her to their place at the center of the crowd of dancers before getting into position for their waltz.

Hux direly wished for a glass of liquor in his hands, if only so that he could hurl it at the pair. There were far away, but he was fairly certain that rage would have granted his arm additional strength.

What was Ren _thinking?_ Was this some pathetic attempt to make Hux _jealous?_

It was Ren’s good fortune that the dance started soon after, otherwise Hux would have marched to the two of them and would have….

Oh, he did not know, but Ren would have been sorry indeed!

The two of them began their waltz, Lady Thanisson grinning so widely it completely neutralized what grace she might be attempting to exude. Ren, by comparison, appeared much more collected. His features were smooth as he guided his dancing partner, his movements fluid and certain, his feet never stepping out of time. Even among the mass of ladies and gentlemen performing the same waltz, he stood out through his talent and presence.

He was an excellent dancer. It was galling.

Hux watched them both, ignoring Phasma’s heavy gaze upon him.

Lady Thanisson’s hand that rested upon Ren’s shoulder began inching its way closer to his neck, until her fingers could brush against his skin at an awkward angle. Her eyes were heavy-lidded in a smoldering look. She leaned ever so closer towards Ren.

And then Ren let go.

Lady Thanisson stumbled forward, eyes wide from shock as she tried to regain her balance. She looked up in utter confusion, eyes darting across the room as she attempted to find her cavalier. But Ren was already far away, darting through the dancers with spectacular ease. None seemed to notice him, none but Lady Thanisson who made a move to follow him, a look of despairing outrage marring her features.

She collided with a pair of dancers for her troubles, stumbling backwards and nearly falling down once again. By this point, almost all eyes were on her, some disproving, other plainly confused. The dancers had stopped, the formation completely ruined by Lady Thanisson’s flailing. With tremendous effort, she managed to stumble her way out of the crowd, and quickly left the room. She appeared on the verge of tears.

No one noticed Ren, or his absence. They didn’t even seem to remember he was there at all.

 “What has gotten into her?” Phasma scoffed. “Disrupting the formation in such a manner.”

Hux could only stare at the place where Ren once stood. “That… That utter idiot.”

“I’ll say.”

“I cannot believe it… That he would -”

“He?” Phasma asked, frowning. “What are you…Hux!”

He stormed away, ignoring her calls. Being just as limited by etiquette as Lady Thanisson, she could not rise to follow him nor raise her voice.

Good. He needed to have _words_ with Ren, and he would not let the man get away!

 _“I can humiliate her if you want,”_ came the memory, unbidden. _“As a gift for you.”_

Hux grit his teeth. He hadn’t remembered Ren’s promise before, because the sight of him dancing with Thanisson had been too distressing. But it was clear to him now that this was another display of Ren’s devotion, an act of protectiveness and care wrapped up in Ren’s particular brand of viciousness. And Hux, Hux…

It was easy to find Ren. Of course it was, the man so desperately craved Hux’s attention in a way no one ever had before.

Well, he had it. And in the secluded hallway they found themselves in, there would be no distractions.

“Ren!” he hissed, marching towards the other man. “What were you thinking?!”

Ren made no move to recoil. He remained in place until Hux stood right before him, meeting brittle fury with steadfast hope. “It was for you,” he answered quietly. “Did you like it?”

“I…”

“Did you laugh? Did you feel vindicated?” Ren’s eyes turned pleading. “Say yes to either, and I would consider it well worth it.”

Ren’s earnesty was disarming. It took Hux a moment to formulate a sufficiently scathing reply.  “As if you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Yes,” Ren admitted easily. “I have a great capacity for disdain, and a certain talent for harm. But I find nothing so satisfying as to dedicate them both to the cause of destroying those who have harmed you.”

Hux swallowed. “Then I suggest you direct your bile inwards.”

His words lacked any sort of heat. The more he tried to cling to his anger, the faster it slipped through his fingers.

Then again, it most likely had never been truly anger at all.

 “Always. So very easily.” The sadness within Ren, which always lingered just below the surface, came rising forward as he spoke. “I deserve all the scorn in the world for giving you cause to hate me.”

“Ren....”

“I said as much in my note, but I was always told actions spoke louder than words. So I showed you. Though in truth, I might have done anything else, on the flimsiest promise that you might heed me then. I want you. I miss you. And sometimes, if I dare dabble in hope, I imagine that you have missed me to.”

“I did,” Hux said without thinking, then winced at his slip up. “But it doesn’t matter,” he hastened to add.

Too little, too late. Ren had spotted his weakness, and latched onto it with guileless cruelty.

“But it does,” he insisted. “I have resolved to direct my bile towards those who harm you. But what can I do, when your greatest torturer is yourself?”

“You should leave well enough alone.”

“I cannot. I am a selfish man. I cannot pretend I do not wish for you to be mine, that the thought of anything else makes me choke on misery or jealousy, depending on what nightmarish scenario my mind supplies. But for your sake, I might find some virtue within me.”

“Such devotion,” Hux replied. He had wanted to be mocking, yet found himself incapable of it. All that came out was a too small voice from a too tight throat. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do _for my sake_?”

“No.”

The simplicity of Ren’s answer was more devastating than any tirade could ever hope to be.

“You are a fool,” he whispered, for he had no breath left in his lungs for anything else.

Ren, of all things, smiled. A small, terribly fond thing that was another devastating blow. “Even though you are cold to me, I relish this conversation,” he murmured. “The world was duller, for lack of you.”

“Ren… please. Stop this.”

Hux couldn’t believe how quickly he had resorted to begging. But no, not quickly. This downfall had been a long time coming, perhaps going far back as the first time he laid eyes upon Ren.

Or perhaps further, when Armitage was barely a man, lying on his bed with a tome of poetry buried under his pillow, wanting to sneer at a privileged dilettante yet instead finding himself yearning for the intimacy and touch he could feel echoes of through ink upon a page.

All men, from the moment of their birth, are fated to meet their end. Hux was merely fated to meet Ren instead.

“Tell me again and I will,” Ren said softly. “Tell me you wish for me to leave, and I will obey. I will seek you out no further, I will court you no further. I will give you all my support from a distance, and you need never see me again.” He let out a breath, for the first time appearing just as shaken as Hux was. “But you need to tell me again.”

“You despicable man,” Hux forced out, voice shaking so terrible the words could barely come out. “You know I cannot.”

And thus, for the first time in his life, Armitage Hux had admitted defeat.

All that was left was to run away.

There was nothing strategic in his retreat, only a desperate attempt to save face as he did his best to get a far away from Ren as possible. Ren did not follow, perhaps too stunned by Hux’s admission to move.

The walls seemed to close in on Hux, who was assaulted on all side by shame and anxiety and _relief,_ and when he made his way back to the main room he found he could not stand to be there anymore, among the oblivious crowd who might at any moment forget their complacency in the face of judgmental stare. 

He managed to reach the balcony, and could have collapsed from relief. Instead, he walked towards the balustrade, took in a deep breath and let the night air fill his lungs until he felt like they might burst.

It changed nothing.

How disappointing.

Hux had so direly hoped that London’s cold air would seep into him and cool his thoughts. But the world seemed to be plotting against him, for tonight was a hot and humid night. Hux was left suffocating upon that balcony, both from the heaviness of the air and the heaviness in his heart.

Damn it all. Damn him.

Damn _Ren_ most of all

What did he take himself for? Some shining knight? Some dashing protector?

Hux had no need of that. He was a calculating, deliberate man that had never required someone else to fight his battle, especially such a petty one as that! He had never needed anyone to come to his aid.

No one had ever wanted to.

Hux clenched his eyes shut, exhaled heavily. There was such tension in his face and shoulders that it was becoming painful. He bore it all as righteous punishment.

He would not lie to himself. He refused to, for self-deceit was the mark of foolish men, and Armitage Hux was no fool.

Except, apparently, the greatest of them all. For Ren’s eyes were still seared within his mind, and Hux could not recall them without feeling weak. Flattered. Powerful.

Desperate for more.

He growled at himself.

This… _infatuation_ could not stand. Hux was beyond such feelings.

Hux was not meant for such feelings.

Infatuations were for the likes of Ren. The foolhardy, the impulsive. The ones larger than reality, who could spurn all rules and conventions. The ones that could walk away from the actions they had wrought.

Hux would never be able to walk away from this.

If he were to give himself this, if he were to let himself be the object of Ren’s devotion, he would never give it up. Far too greedy a man, he would want and crave and be satisfied so thoroughly by the object of his desire.

For Ren would give everything, Hux knew. The man was far too intense, far too passionate in all that he did for him not to. And Hux craved every inch of him, every muscle and every glare, every strand of hair and biting word and every single moment the man both infuriated and exhilarated him.

No one had ever looked at Hux like Ren had. Hux had never let them. He had kept his sight straight on his ambitions, lest he catch a glimpse of anything that could distract him.

How very right he had been. All it had taken was a moment alone with Ren to reduce Hux to a shaking, miserable wreck on a lonely balcony. Desperate to get his bearings back and desperate for more.

He had always been too greedy. He might well die from being denied.

Oh, such a mistake it had been to let himself want! All that care taken in preserving himself from such damnations had been swept away.

Ren had been an adversary Hux had been woefully unprepared for.

There were footsteps coming from behind him. A pair of arms wrapped around him, thick and strong and pressing him against a chest Hux was already achingly familiar with.

Ren pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck; Hux let out of sob of fear and relief.

“Your thoughts are loud,” Ren whispered.

“They are all I have left. Will you strip me bare of everything?”

“They torment you. Why should I allow it? You are meant for better things.”

Hux had to laugh. Ren’s protectiveness was absurd when he was the one that brought Hux to his knees. “You are my greatest torment, Ren.”

Ren stilled. “Am I?”

There was such a strange melody to his voice. Hux couldn’t tell if it was smugness, or fright, or true regret. Maybe all; maybe none.

“Terribly,” he murmured. “You cruel, cruel man. You would have me burn.”

He remembered how Ren had cornered him. Remembered the heat of his body and of his words as he pressed him against the wall. Leaving him no leeway to move or to lie.

Ren’s grip tightened around his waist, pulling him closer still. Hux felt his heat more keenly. Felt his ragged breath, far too heavy with emotion for words.

Ren’s lips against the crook of his neck, kissing it with a false chastity that made Hux moan and his eyelids flicker.

“I’m sorry,” Ren mumbled against his skin. He kissed him again. “I was brutal. I was vicious.” His forehead came to rest against Hux’s hair, his next words whispered directly into Hux’s ear. “I can be so terrible when I desire so terribly.”

Hux gasped. Then cursed himself for it.

Enough of this.

He spun around, latching onto the lapels of Ren’s suit jacket. He had half in mind to push him away, pull him closer. Snarl and scream and something else upon which he refused to give full verbal form.

But there were too many feelings within him, too much emotion within his chest, and they all stumbled and tripped over each other as they reached his tongue. They made it heavy, clumsy, dry; they made Hux mute and vulnerable.

Would that his eyes be as expressive as Ren’s. Dark and deep, with a thousand intentions and no light reflected within them. Like the pit Hux was condemned to fall into.

“You are a fool,” he said with ragged breath. “You would have us commit a terrible folly.”

“You are wonderful,” Ren answered. “What sweet madness this would be!”

Hux bit back a moan. “Must I protect us both from your recklessness?”

“Do not protect yourself for me. Not when I have left myself so vulnerable for you.”

“Ren,” he breathed out. And it was a mistake, for with Ren so close his lungs could no longer function properly. His breath was too short. His heart could not keep a steady rate, and his knees could no longer support his weight.

Ren was a terrible, terrible disease.

“If I am a disease, then you are my opiate. You filled my lungs and made my mind soar, leaving me aching for more of you.”

“Stop that,” Hux pleaded. “Stop speaking such things.”

“No.”

Hux pulled Ren down and kissed him.

It was inelegant, as one would expect from a starving man finally given sustenance. It was rough, with Ren’s hands bruising his waist and Hux’s knuckles whitening from the strength of their grip. It failed to quiet either of them, for there were a thousand words spoken in the tangle of Hux’s fingers in Ren’s hair and in the trembling fingers that came to caress Hux’s cheek.

When Hux pulled away, he was left breathless from all of that and more.

But most of all, it was from the way Ren looked at him. Eyes wide and dark and near feverish with want.

“Please. Please, Hux,” he gasped. His eyes were wide, nearly wild. “Do it again. Kiss me again.” His voice was a low keen. “It will never be enough.”

Kylo spoke those words so longingly, so mournfully; Hux felt the resonance of it in his own heart. So much so that he couldn’t help the way his breath shuddered, couldn’t keep his eyes from closing as he rested his forehead against Ren’s.

“I know,” he whispered. The most damning truth.

And then he pulled himself into another kiss, longer than the last. Deeper than the last. He was dimly aware of the party goers still within the room, most likely made oblivious to the two of them through Ren’s abilities. He did not care, not so long as Ren’s embrace held firm and he could have this forever.

Hux had always been far too greedy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssss.... This art is my fave XD.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so sorry it took so long! Real life was absolutely a disaster, and editing led to copious amounts of rewrites!  
> I hope I'll be able to post next Saturday, but it will depend on the editing I still need to do. This fic will be completed though, so don't worry about that!
> 
> But art in this chapter!! Yay! As usual, it is the work of the brilliant [GallifreyanOmnishambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/works) , who can be found on tumblr [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/).  
> Special thanks to moussiesshi for their beta and support. I put them through so much, and they endure it all with incredible patience!

At Arkanis’ Military Academy, there had been a ritual of sorts for all pupils attending their final year. The training grounds stretched all the way to the ocean side, which was made of coarse sand beaches and cliffs.

The ritual, completely illicit and no less sacred for it, demanded that the cadets jump from a height which had been absurdly named _The Absolution_ by the school’s pupils. In ideal circumstances, the jump would have been ill-advised; in Arkanis’ climate, it became wholly suicidal.

And yet, to launch oneself off a cliff was not only demanded, but expected. Those who had refused to partake in the tradition quickly found themselves at the bottom of the Academy’s social ladder, the victims of a collective scorn that manifested in a thousand of petty ways.

The only way to be, ah, _absolved_ , would be to leap off _The Absolution_.

When Hux’s final year came around, it had been no different. The jump would come, he knew, and though he kept on a mask of indifference whenever one of his peers mentioned as much, his insides twisted with dread at the mere thought of it.

There had been so many reasons not to take the jump: the height of the fall, the rocks below, the waves that threatened to smash any imprudent swimmer against them, Hux’s weak constitution, which would no doubt mean he would suffer a terrible consumption from such cold waters.

Also, Hux was afraid of falling.

That last thought had been too humiliating to bare. And so Hux did the sole thing in his power.

An anonymous message towards the Academy’s headmaster put a stop to the long-held tradition, and resulted in severe punishment inflicted upon those who had been named as ringleaders.

No one knew who was responsible; Hux took great care in feigning outrage.

He did not know why he was thinking of such a trivial thing now. Perhaps because now, years later, he found himself falling from a far greater height at a far greater speed, and found the sensation to be just as terrifying as he imagined it. It was also far more exhilarating than he had ever suspected, perhaps because what was waiting for him at the bottom at the end was not a raging ocean, but Ren - as much of a force of nature, but twice as dangerous.

When crashing into an ocean, Hux might have fought against the overpowering force and crushing waves; when faced with Ren’s overwhelming presence and bruising kiss, Hux’s sole desire was to be swept away.

And true to his word, Ren did exactly as Hux desired.

After their kiss on the balcony, neither of them could bear remaining at Thanisson’s ball any longer. Ren had solved the issue by spiriting them away, using his abilities to hide them from notice and view. Hux had been far too stunned at his own actions to do anything else but follow, and once they were in the intimacy of their coach he had been far too preoccupied by Ren’s lips upon his to care about much at all.

Ren’s hands around his waist were just as large and strong as he had thought; when they reached up to cup his face, they were a revelation. Hux moaned, openly. His shame at making such a sound was kept at bay by Ren’s smile against his lips.

Ren had made no comment at Hux’s skills, which were surely far beneath his own. He had made no comment at the way Hux’s hands awkwardly clutched at his clothes, fumbling around in obvious inexperience. He seemed to revel in the experience just as much as Hux, and moaned in turn when Hux allowed himself to tipped back into the coach’s seat, Ren’s arms around his waist the only thing keeping him upright.

The display of strength had made the heat in Hux’s loins flare up into an inferno; he had to pull away from the kiss to gasp, then was consumed with the far greater need to pull Ren close once more.

Now, Hux found himself in the same situation, albeit this time on the couch of Ren’s sitting room. He barely remembered exiting the coach, much less paying the driver. Ren was pressed against him, was very obviously hard and very obviously eager to engage in even greater carnalities, and Hux…

Hux felt drunk, felt ravenous, could not wait and could not think…

It terrified him.

“Ren…” he gasped. “Ren, I…”

Ren paused, sensing Hux’s hesitance even as Hux could not keep himself from clinging to Ren’s frame. He pulled back, allowing Hux to see the darkness of his eyes, stemming from lust and fully dilated pupils. Thick lips, made more so by thorough kissing, and a brow that had become furrowed in scrutiny and concern.

“What is the matter?”

“I…” _I am falling so quickly. How can I know you will be there to catch me?_ “This is all… rather fast.”

Ren’s eyes widened, and he pulled back completely, sitting upright and away from Hux. It brought on a conflicting rush of longing and relief.

“My apologies,” Ren blurted out, expression painfully earnest and apologetic. “I should have…I did not mean to demand more than you can give.”

“I am quite able of _giving_ ,” Hux huffed, blushing as he sat himself up as well. “And receiving. Whichever might arise. In due time.”

“I did not mean..”

“Ren. It is fine,” Hux cut him off, not unkindly. It was comforting, in a way, to find himself regaining some composure even as Ren seemed to frazzle into uncertainty. Yet the shift in dynamic solved nothing, for Hux was still struggling with conflicting desires he could not adequately express, and could not rely on Ren’s innate understanding. “Your advances were not unwanted. Quite the contrary. I do wish to… pursue with that. All that. It was just… premature.”

He winced as he finally managed to shut his mouth. He sounded so terribly asinine.

Ren nodded once, accepting Hux’s words with humility and no small amount of relief. His expression turned thoughtful as he studied Hux’s squirming countenance, before he tentatively reached for Hux’s hand. When Hux did not pull away, he rested his own hand upon it.

Hux’s breath hitched.

“You speak so unsurely. I know you are neither timid nor naïve, and yet the hesitance in you…Have you done this before?”

“I have,” Hux replied, defensiveness coming as second nature. But Ren’s lack of judgment proved incredibly mollifying. “With women. A couple times. It was not…”

“Do you wish to continue?”

“I want this,” Hux said in a strained voice. Even now, the impersonal vagueness came easier to him that the far more frightening _I want you._ “But not here,” he added, voice low and shoulders sagging at what Ren would most obviously see as a disappointment.

He was startled to feel Ren’s fingers reach beneath his chin, coaxing Hux to meet Ren’s eyes.

When he did, he found none of the scorn he had expected; instead, he discovered that Ren’s deep, black eyes were incredibly well suited for softness.

“Of course,” Ren said gently, as if it were the most natural concession in the world.

Despite himself, Hux glanced down towards the firm evidence of Ren’s arousal. He quickly looked back up, cheeks burning. “Do you wish for me to…”

“Hux,” Ren said gently. “You do not have to offer recompense. What you would be willing to give me is a gift, not a debt to be paid.”

“Ah, Ren,” Hux breathed out. “I do not understand you.”

Ren looked sad at that, though Hux could not fathom what he had said to wound him. Ren leaned forward to kiss him, a chaste thing in comparison to their earlier embrace, and kept his hand on Hux’s cheek when he pulled away.

Without thinking, Hux put his own hand upon it, keeping it firmly in place.

“Shall I escort you home, then?” Ren asked.

Hux bit his lips. “I do not wish for the night to end prematurely.”

“I am not a mirage, to fade at the first ray of light,” Ren replied, thumb gently stroking Hux’s cheek. “But if to sooth your worries you wish to remain by my side through night and day, then I, selfish as I am, will be most eager to comply.”

Hux’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch. He took Ren’s hand in his own, rising from his seat. “To bed then,” he said with a confidence he did not yet feel, but aspired to. “Through my hands at least, I intend to feel just how real you truly are.”

When they reached Ren’s bedroom, Hux hovered in the doorway. He only stepped forward at Ren’s beckoning. He kicked off his choose, allowed the other man to remove his vest for him.

The two of them slipped into bed as they were, nearly fully clothed. Once again, Hux found himself hesitating at how he should place himself. Once again, Ren came to his rescue, pulling Hux towards him and flipped him around, until Hux’s back was plastered against Ren’s chest and firmly nestled in Ren’s arms. The sensation of Ren’s engulfing around him threatened to overwhelm; Hux brought his hands to Ren’s arms a dragged them closer still.

Neither of them spoke after that. Hux fell asleep to the sound of Ren’s breathing and his own sigh in satisfaction.

 

~*~

 

True to his word, Ren had allowed him to stay the night.

Hux had woken up to find that he had flipped over during his sleep, so that he was face to face with Ren, whose eyes had fluttered open shortly after Hux had woken. It was almost a shame: Ren was an entirely different being when sleeping so peacefully

But to be the recipient of Ren’s still sleep-muddled gaze was compensation enough.

“Good morning,” Ren had said, mumbling even as the corner of his lips pulled into a smile.

“I ought to go,” Hux had replied, though he had made no move to leave.

“Stay for the morning. Please.”

And Hux had. Ren had requested that breakfast be served in the sitting room. His butler hadn’t even batted an eye when he saw Hux in the same bed; no doubt he had seen his master in far more compromising situations.

Hux had straightened his clothes to the best of his ability, but his spontaneous arrival last night meant that all he had was the evening wear he had arrived in. He would have been embarrassed to present himself in a disheveled suit had Ren not joined him wearing nothing but trousers and an undershirt.

The two of them had breakfast together, Ren sitting across him with sleep still cloying to him, barefoot and distractingly sipping at the tea that had been poured for both of them. He smiled at Hux when he caught him staring, a soft, sleep-filled smile that sent Hux’s mind reeling.

It was all so absurd. The kiss on the balcony, sleeping in Ren’s bed, _having breakfast_ with him in an incredibly domestic setting. It was preposterous.

Yet it was real. Confusingly, breathtakingly real.

When it was finally time to leave, Hux was all but dragging his feet towards the coach that was waiting for him. Ren’s hand upon his back was the sole thing pushing him forward. 

“I will see you tomorrow, then?” he had asked as he had hovered in front of the coach’s door, reluctant to step inside despite knowing how foolish he was being.

“And the day after,” Ren replied.

That promise carried Hux home more surely than the coach ever could.

Mitaka was waiting for him when he came home the next day. Hux felt unusually sheepish as his valet eyes trailed over his frame, seeing his Lord in the same clothes he had left the house in the night prior, hair slightly ruffled and a light flush to his cheeks.

None of it was damning evidence; nevertheless, Mitaka was clever enough to make an educated guess.

“Tea, my Lord?”

“No thank you, Mitaka,” Hux answered slowly. “I have already had breakfast today.”

The words were innocuous enough, and yet they felt like a far greater confession. Hux could not fight the spark of thrill that lit in his stomach, nor could he keep an exhilarated smile from stretching on his face, far too intense and far too deep to be chased away by Mitaka’s knowing gaze.

 

**~*~**

The exhilaration never left. It grew, changed, strengthened as Hux allowed himself to believe that the strange, frightening joy he had discovered that night would not be ripped away from him. He was a naturally suspicious man, especially towards fate when it appeared to favor him, yet he found his deep-rooted wariness melt with each additional display of Ren’s lasting affection. 

They were numerous. Ren, in all his excesses, heard Hux’s request to delay the more physical aspects of their liaison and decided to go all the way towards full traditionalism.

Hux was being wooed.

There was no other word for the way Ren would present himself at his doorstep, hat in hand and blinding smile, requesting that Hux accompany him on whatever activity he had opted to use as a pretext that day.

There was no other word for the glances and smug smiles the two of them would exchange, as they walked beside each other in public. Hux thrilled in every brush of fingers, any gesture of affection disguised as casual friendship.

There were gifts as well. Ren delighted in them, as they allowed him to indulge in his flair for dramatics.

Once, Hux had entered his study to find a ludicrously massive bouquet of orange lilies upon his desk. He hadn’t needed to read the note pinned to the sash to know who had sent it, yet he still reached for the cream-colored card with shaking hands, anticipation turning to thrill as he came across familiar handwriting.

 

_I know you are not one to purchase flowers for yourself, as such a thing would be far too frivolous for your taste. But perhaps you may indulge me in some frivolity of my own? The hue of these flowers reminded me far too much of you for me to pass them by._

_I have kept a bouquet for my own, and sent its twin to you. I imagine them to be a bridge between us. They brighten the room, though not as well as you. More importantly they might trick you into thinking of me as I so constantly think of you._

_The florist I purchased them from stressed their unsavory meaning in the language of courtship. I know you are not a man to care for such things, and so I have resolved to dismiss it as well. We need no language save our own, and I intend to become fluent in it._

_Yours, ever._

_K.R_

 

Hux had brought the card to his mouth, pressing a kiss to it with an open sentimentality that was foreign to him. When he inhaled, he smelled faint flowers overshadowed by Ren’s cologne.

Hux was being wooed. He found that he adored it.

Ren drank Hux’s appreciation like fine ambrosia. He never faltered in his efforts, as if the act of spoiling Hux was the most gratifying one he knew. However, being Ren, he did not fail to balance his doting behavior with a sharp tongue.

“Had I known how susceptible to bribery,” he had teased Hux one day, “I would have showered you in gifts long before today.”

Hux might have reacted to the jibe with a mockery of his own had he not been in such a pleasant mood. Sitting on his couch with a book in hand, Ren’s head in his lap and his fingers tangled in Ren’s curls, he was far too relaxed for sharpness.

“It can hardly be called bribery when I have given into you beforehand,” he had answered idly, turning a page as he spoke to make a point at how unaffected he was.

Ren reached up to tap the book’s spine. “I would offer you a book, as I believe it would be a gift most suited to your tastes.But I am not knowledgeable in the sciences you favor, and would not know which one to choose.”

“I had been surprised not to find a book of love sonnets on my desk.”

Ren frowned. “Why would I give you sonnets? You have no mind for poetry.”

Hux hummed thoughtfully.  “I still have that book of yours somewhere, I believe.”

“Truly?”

“No, I have lied. I know precisely where it is.” Hux had allowed himself a small smile as Ren’s face lit up at the admission. “I have suddenly found myself possessed with the desire to reread some old favorites. Sonnet number seven comes to mind.”

Ren leered. “Oh, the wickedness of you, Hux. That one is so _scandalous._ ” He sat himself up, shifting around in his seat so that he could drape his arms around Hux’s neck. “Perhaps I could write a new collection, just for you.”

Ren’s voice was low, barely above a whisper. Hux felt blood rush to his cheeks. “Would you?”

Ren pressed a quick kiss to the corner of Hux’s lips. “I have not touched pen nor paper in years. Yet one glance from you, one glance at you, and I find myself filled with the desire to write a thousand sonnets.”

“Am I your new muse, then?”

“If you’d like, though I would have thought you to hold such sentiments in contempt.”

“I hold much of what you do in contempt,” Hux replied easily, trusting Ren to recognize the jest for what it was. “I would not object to a tome of poetry written in my honor.”

“If you would like. It would be for your eyes only.”

“Oh?” Hux said teasingly.  “Have you grown shy after your first publication?”

Ren frowned. “It was different.”

The sudden defensiveness in Ren’s voice took Hux aback; evidently, he had crossed a line with his gentle teasing, though he could not figure out why.

Fortunately for him, Ren elaborated before Hux could clumsily attempt to sooth what wound his words had caused.

“When I wrote that book, I was different. Younger, less sure of myself. I had just… distanced myself from my family. I was wronged, I was angry, and I was free from all the restraints that had been placed upon me – including in the Force.” Ren looked away. “All that had been repressed over the years came pouring out. It was frightening.”

Hux brushed Ren’s cheek with the back of his hands. “I cannot imagine you being afraid of anything.”

“But I was. Until Snoke.” Ren looked back up. “He encouraged me to embrace it, revel in it. And so I tried my best.”

“Meaning you went to numerous brothels and disreputable pubs.”

“It helped. It was an outlet, in the physical sense at least.” Ren bit his lip. “I got carried away, as I am wont to do. My master, once encouraging, grew displeased; yet I could not stop.”

“Most young men cannot, the first time they visit a brothel,” Hux quipped, only to regret it immediately when Ren winced.

“It was…” Ren started, before swallowing. He looked pain as he tried to put words to the maelstrom rising inside him. “The carnal aspects were certainly enjoyable. But the mental… It is addicting, to be in a place where the purpose and goals are laid bare, with neither pretense nor shame. The women and men who worked there…. I knew they were interested in my coin, but there was an honesty in that as well, and in the meantime, they certainly did their work well: their eyes upon me as if they knew me and worshiped me for it, the caresses and lingering moments holding a semblance of intimacy I knew I could get from nowhere else. Not after I turned away from…” He shook his head. “I tried to purge the need through meditation, as my master then commanded me to, but I never had any talent for it. My soul was too full, Hux. I needed to empty it through other means, and ink and paper were the only vessel I found that could sustain was poured out. All that had been denied to me, all I had hungered for, neatly bound in a hard cover book.”

In truth, Hux could only half relate to Ren’s tale. Though he was also familiar with frustration, he had made a habit of bottling it like poison, letting it ferment and grow more potent until he inflicted back upon the world. Ren, on the other hand, handled it like gun powder, packing it tightly until a spark caused it to explode and cause equal injury to those around him and himself.

Privately, Hux highly preferred his own method.

Nevertheless, he had not wanted Ren to think him callous, nor unmoved by an obvious plea for comfort. Though expressing any sort of affection was still foreign to him, especially when tied to vulnerability, he still had at least a theoretical knowledge of what was appropriate.

With his hand still on Ren’s cheek, he coaxed him closer, until he could place a gentle kiss on Ren’s lips. Ren’s sigh in relief had been immediate, and gratifying; Hux let out a sigh of his own when he felt Ren’s body melt against his.

Ren had pulled away far too soon, resting in head on Hux’s shoulder. Almost automatically, Hux’s fingers had reached up to comb through Ren’s hair.

“I published that tome on a spiteful whim,” Ren confessed.  “I wanted the world to witness my plight and my liberation. The world thought it was a confident provocation. I did not correct them.”

“I thought it was for me,” Hux murmured. “It so matched what I held within my own soul, and never told anyone. My own secrets, given back to me by a stranger with a pen.”

“Perhaps it was. For you, I mean. Perhaps it was the Force, already uniting us long before we would ever meet.”

“I doubt the Force functions in such a manner,” Hux had said, but the idea had thrilled him.

He wanted it to be true, wanted Ren to have been promised to him by a higher power; his by right. Proof that Hux was allowed to have this, and would have it forever.

Hux shook his head fondly at the memory, pausing halfway through the letter he was writing. The notion still held some charm, but as time passed he had amended his initial assessment.

He needed no proof, for he would make it so. Once Hux rose to greater heights, he would ensure that he was given his due. Him and Ren, on top of the world, unattainable and unstoppable.

The door to his study opened, interrupting his reverie. Ren had arrived earlier than expected today. 

Hux smiled as he put his pen down.

“Ren, I thought you said-”

“Good afternoon, Lord Hux.”

For a brief moment, Hux froze, his mind screaming in alarm. In the next second, he forced himself to relax, rising to greet the man who had intruded in his study.

“Lord Snoke,” he said, unfailingly polite and with just enough deference. “I apologize for greeting you in such a manner. In usual circumstances, I rely on Mitaka to announce all guests that present themselves at my door.”

Snoke was standing in the doorway, still dressed in his coat – a golden, loose thing that looked plainly odd on such a frail-looking man. His sunken eyes, which gazed unblinkingly at Hux, did not match the smile on his face as he greeted him.

Hux hated that smile: indulgent, condescending, as if Hux were an amusing child just old enough to humor in conversation. “There is no need to disturb him,” he answered airily. “My visit will be brief.”

Hux nodded once, resisting the urge to sneer. “How may I be of service?”

It was a risky move, to cut through pleasantries and etiquette as he did. However, Snoke had appreciated his business-like approach to their common work, commending him for efficiency and devotion. Though Hux could never shake off the unease he felt around the old man, he was still the head of their plot; it was in his best interest to please him.

And if it got the man out of his house that much faster, then all the better.

“Lord Ren told me of your progress,” Snoke said, his smile fading though his tone still straddled the line between authoritative and cajoling. “I should like to see it for myself.”

“Of course,” he answered with a nod. “If you would follow?”

The distance between his study and the workroom had never felt so long. Hux walked at a brisk pace, Snoke following with an ease that was at odds with his fragile demeanor. Hux glanced behind him several times during the way, under the pretense of assuring himself that Snoke was following. The truth was that he felt Snoke’s gaze upon his back far too keenly; it slithered over him like fingers on the nap of his neck, leaving Hux to dread the moment when he would feel claws dig in.

There was also the fact that Snoke was, according to Ren, a highly proficient Force user. Hux had no way of measuring his strength, or defending against if need be. Not that Snoke had any reason to harm him – and in fact, had been a rather vocal support since the day they met.

The thought was not as reassuring as it should be. Hux did not know if it was healthy suspicion or paranoia.

After unlocking the door, Hux took a step back, allowing Snoke to step inside first.

He watched, with no small amount of trepidation, as the older man made his way towards Hux’s work: five crystals nestled in their respective container. All of them containing a destructive power never matched before, designed to activate at the same moment through resonance. Ren had been instrumental in accomplishing that feature, his perception of energies the only tool Hux had at his disposal. It had been more than enough. according to his calculation, each weapon could enter into resonance with the other from hundreds of miles away.

Snoke hovered near the biggest device, the one to act as an ignition signal for all others. He spent a long while considering it carefully, circling it as he hummed in consideration. He reached out with his palm until it was centimeters away from the device. Hux stepped forward in alarm. his creation was still highly fragile, and was already trembling from Snoke’s movement.

Fortunately, Snoke withdrew his hand before it truly came in contact with the weapon. He put it back at his side, and turned towards Hux with a satisfied expression.

“All this power, in such a small vessel,” he drawled. “You have done well.”

“Thank you.”

“Have you named it?”

“Given the five-branch pattern it made upon its first activation, I had thought to name it Dread-Star.”

Ren had suggested _Deathstar,_ but Hux had found the monicker far too gauche. He hadn’t wanted to name it at all, but had settled on a compromise due to Ren’s insistence.

“A suitable name, I suppose” Snoke commented mildly. “Are these prototypes fully operational?”

Hux nodded once. “Further tests need to be done, but I believe so,” he stated in a clinical manner. He felt some of the tension in his shoulders fade as he discussed his area of expertise. “I have successfully found a way to activate these devices without Ren’s intervention. This emancipation from a Force user’s direct presence was a major leap in completing the device.”

“I see. And when can larger scale test be envisioned?”

“Perhaps in a month. Though I am unsure how to proceed on a practical level. The devices are still relatively unstable, given the nature of the crystals powering them. One small disturbance and-”

“No need to elaborate further,” Snoke said with a wave of his hand. “I am familiar with the rest.”

Hux pursed his lips at being so rudely interrupted, but made no further comment. “Ren spoke of it, I assume.”

“Spoke, yes. Among other things.” Snoke cocked his head as he spoke, his gaze turning both scrutinizing and accusatory. “He thinks of you a lot.”

It took all of Hux’s restraint to keep his expression neutral. “The byproduct of our professional cooperation, no doubt.”

“One might say so. But we can both agree that it is largely due to that boy’s tendencies to latch on to what is shiny and new. Until the sparkle fades, of course.” Snoke sighed heavily; he did not look contrite in the least. “Despite my bests efforts, it is a flaw he has yet to cure himself from.”

“I have not noticed such behavior,” Hux answered tonelessly.

Behind his back, his nails were digging into his palm.

Snoke smiled, indulgently. “Of course not,” he said, taking a step forward with each word. Even now, his walk looked more like a glide; it was unnerving. “You have not known him for nearly as long as I have.”

Hux grit his teeth. “Very few have.”

“Indeed.” Snoke’s had stopped three steps away, watching Hux with dead eyes. “I am so glad you realize this.”

Hux met the icy stare with one of his own. He found himself falling back on a posture he often adopted at the front, the one designed to have his soldiers fall in line.  Men larger, stronger than him had cowered under that gaze.

Snoke met it with ease, wholly unimpressed.

The tension in the air grew thicker still, if it were at all possible.

Then the door swung open, and in swept Ren.

Hux turned to him almost immediately, filled with dizzying relief at his presence. He opened his mouth to greet him - or thank him, perhaps.

The words died on his tongue when he saw Ren’s eyes: deferential, slightly downcast, and entirely focused upon Snoke.

“My Lord,” he greeted, bowing bowing. “As always, it is a pleasure and an honor.”

“Kylo,” Snoke purred. “It has been far too long. You have been neglecting me.”

Ren looked down in contrition, the seemingly mild words hitting him like a boulder. “I apologize. Our cause has demanded my complete attention.”

Snoke’s lips slowly stretched into a smile; Hux wanted to rip them off.

“So devoted,” the old man cooed. 

Ren glanced up, relief visible on every line of his face. “Always.”

“Hux tells me you have been instrumental in the creation of these devices. You have done well.”

“All my abilities have been given to me by the grace of your training.” Ren spoke those words with toneless ease, as one would an oft repeated lesson.

“Indeed.” Snoke stretched out the word as if he were savoring every syllable. “It is fortunate that I could see your true potential. Had it gone to waste… What a sad thought.”

Ren’s face flushed with pride.

“It appears the Force has willed you to join me here. I have decided it is time to take the next step in our plan,” Snoke continued. “Lord Hux will proceed with large scale tests in the next month.”

“Of course,” Ren said with a nod. “I am to accompany him, then?”

“Alas, no. I have another task for you; I would do it myself, but at my age… You are the only one I may trust to do in my stead. The details shall wait, of course. When we are in private.” Snoke placed a hand on Ren’s shoulders. “I could ask for no better apprentice. I know you will not fail me.”

Ren drank the compliment eagerly, looking absolutely fulfilled by those few words.“Thank you, my Lord.”

Hux felt bile rise to his throat.

Snoke gave Ren one last indulgent smile before turning back towards Hux once more. His expression hadn’t shifted an iota, yet seemed much sharper when out of his apprentice’s sight. “There is no need to escort me. I will see myself out.”

He left the room without another word, not that Hux would have demanded anything more of him. The relief he felt at seeing Snoke leave was heavily dampened by the inescapable sensation that he has lost an important battle.

“A fine performance, Ren,” Hux commented, forcing a laugh that sounded as painful as it felt.

Ren turned to him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Such servitude. It must not come naturally to you.”

“Snoke deserves my deference.” Ren’s expression darkened, in the shade of defensive anger. “Do you take issue with that?”

Yes, many, but Hux could not possibly say as much. Ren would not hear it, and even if he did he would ask Hux to justify himself.

And what would he say then? Nothing that Ren would ever accept.

Snoke’s words had rung true. He and Ren shared a history Hux could never hope to match. To see the two of them together reminded Hux of just how new this bond he shared with Ren was. For all that it had tormented him before their kiss, for all it had fulfilled him afterwards, their time together could barely be counted in months.

Were Hux to ask Ren to choose between he and Snoke, there would be only one possible outcome.

Not that he would, Hux hastened to amend,  not over something as pathetic as sentiment.

So long as Snoke was the main financier of Hux’s ambitions, it would be self-sabotaging to go against him. There might even never be the need to: their goals aligned, and both of them brought an essential component to their plan. It would be unthinkable to jeopardize everything for the sake of petty jealousy.

Hux and Ren shared a relationship highly different from that which linked Snoke and Ren. The two need not compete.

Perhaps if Hux repeated it often enough, he might convince himself fully.

“No issue at all,” he said at last, shrugging with too stiff shoulders and too tight a heart. “I am merely surprised at an unfamiliar facet of your personality. You usually have such an issue with authority.” He turned on his heels before Ren could press further, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “It doesn’t matter. Come here, I have something for you.”

“Oh? _You_ are giving a gift to _me?_ ” Though Ren was visibly none too pleased to let the topic slide, his interest was visibly piqued. “Is this your competitiveness talking?”

“Well, I say for you, but in truth I intend to profit just as much,” Hux said, reaching inside his pocket. He pulled out the two small slips of paper he had stored there.

Ren took them in his hand when Hux presented them to him, eyebrows raised in surprise as he studied Hux’s gift. “Train tickets?”

Hux nodded, taking a deep breath before blurting out the offer that had been on his mind for the past days. “Come to Arkanis with me. I am leaving in a week; I rather hope it will be with you.”

Ren said nothing, merely staring at the two innocuous looking slips of paper. His lips were parted open, his eyes unblinking as if he were trying to make sense of the inscriptions on the ticket. Confusion gave way to surprise, then to too many emotions for to keep track off.

All the while, Hux waited for a response; when none came he felt wisps of anxiety starting to claw at his throat.

“Away from London. Away from prying eyes,” he said again, trying to keep his voice from devolving into a higher pitch. “In my home, my domain. Come with me, I would-”

He was interrupted by Ren’s arms pulling him into a crushing hug. It came so suddenly Hux did not return it immediately, and when he did it was a tentative thing. Though to be held so snuggly was a novel and pleasant experience, he still wished to look upon Ren’s face, to be fully certain of the man’s reaction.

Ren’s beaming smile, childlike in its absolutely sincerity, was an immensely gratifying sight.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Ren said, pressing a quick kiss to Hux’s lips. “I will have to see with Lord Snoke, of course,” he added as an afterthought.

Hux nearly froze in his arms. 

“My master’s demands are sometimes… they are for the best, I am certain, but difficult to act upon, both on a practical sense and… It might take time, if I am not strong enough to obey as well and quickly as he would like, but...” Ren shook his head then, his troubled expression fading as he did; Hux wondered if Ren even realized it had been there all. “There is not point in speculating, when I can simply inquire. I am certain that whatever task my master has entrusted me with could be delayed for a couple weeks.

Hux swallowed, trying to quell the sharp stab he felt in his heart.

“Of course,” he answered, as nonchalantly as he was able. “Well, do let me know. I suppose I could always ask for a refund.”

Ren frowned, obviously not fooled for a moment by Hux’s pretense. However, he seemed more than willing not to press the issue. Like Hux, he was not too eager to break the peace they had found by dragging them both into an argument.

When Ren pulled Hux in for another kiss, Hux let himself melt in Ren’s arms. He resolved to enjoy this moment, and all the next. And if the spark of jealousy and fear in his mind wouldn’t quiet down, well, it was no matter so long as Ren kept his word to keep out of Hux’s mind. 

**~*~**

By some stroke of fortune, Snoke had not interfered with Hux’s plans. Ren had been quite pleased to announce to Hux that his master had deemed whatever mission he had entrusted Ren with was not an urgent matter and had _magnanimously_ allowed his apprentice his escapade.

Ren hadn’t shared the specifics of the task Snoke had entrusted him with, Hux had gathered he was not too pleased with whatever task Snoke had entrusted him with. He seemed more miffed than truly unhappy, but Hux was happy with whatever dissent he could get.

That discontent wasn’t enough to curb Ren’s reverence for the older man. He was still a devoted pupil, and so when Snoke began requesting Ren’s presence, allegedly to further his training, Ren had answered the call without complaint. Hux did not see much of him for the next two weeks.

He suspected Snoke had so monopolized Ren’s attention just to demonstrate that his apprentice would comply without question. He kept that thought to himself; to share it with Ren would only end with the other man growing sullen and defensive.

Instead, Hux had focused on preparing for their get-away to Arkanis. In normal circumstances, he would have sent a short telegram and expected his servants to act autonomously and effectively. However, knowing that Ren would come had sent him in a flurry of micromanagement. Beyond his need to impress, he was determined to ensure that nothing would come to mar their enjoyment of each other’s company.

For this, Winston had been vital. Hux trusted his butler to serve the two of them with the same devotion he usually displayed. For duty’s sake, yes, but mainly because there were reasons as to why Winston had remained unmarried all these years, reasons that went beyond devotion to the Hux family. It was an unspoken acknowledgment between the two of them that they both shared the same appetites, if not the same liberties.  

(At the age of thirteen, Hux had spotted Winston chastising a clumsy footman far more intimately and thoroughly than duty called for. It had been a lesson in the value of self-restraint, as with one glance he had suddenly found himself with full power over Winston’s fate. It had also been a lesson in earning loyalty: his discretion over the subject had been instrumental in swaying the man’s allegiances away for Hux’s father.)

So yes, Winston could be trusted with the secret of Hux’s relationship with Ren. He could also be trusted to get rid of those who were a liability. Far easier to sack someone over something a trivial matter than look over one’s shoulder for fear that they would betray his secret.

(At age fourteen the same clumsy footman had grown too bold in his demand for affection and favoritism from Winston’s part; Hux had thoroughly supported the butler’s denunciation of the other man when Lord Hux had asked which servant had been the one to misplace his cigars. The same cigars he had seen Winston throw in the trash the day prior. It had been a formative experience.)

On the day of their departure, Hux had met at Ren at King’s Cross a full hour before the train was set to leave. Hux had insisted on it, as he simply knew that left to his own devices, Ren would arrive seconds before the train was to exit the station.

Indeed, Ren had proved himself to be a most nonchalant traveler. He presented himself with no notion of the precise departure time or the platform he was meant to go to, seemingly content with letting Hux manage every detail of their travel. Such laziness was rather irritating, but at the very least Ren took directions well – when they came from Hux, at least.

Once they had settled in their compartment, Ren had sprawled himself over half the compartment, taking full advantage of their privatized compartment to stretch his legs upon the bench. In a matter of minutes, he had fallen asleep, filling the cabin with his light snores that Hux found more endearing than irritating. When a steward walked by and frowned at Ren’s shoes upon the cushions, Hux had glared at him until he had left.

Ren had slept most of the train ride, whilst Hux alternated between watching him and staring at the scenery. With each mile closer his anticipation grew. Now that they were in the carriage towards Hux manor, it was nearly overwhelming.

Hux glanced at Ren, who seemed unaffected by the restlessness that had gripped Hux. He was looking out of the window, taking in the scenery with half-lidded eyes. The grey light that sluggishly pierced through the glass highlighted the curves and dip of his face, giving him the air of a figure in a romantic painting from the stroke of Europe’s finest masters. Hux could have sworn the dull glow lingered upon his lips, defining them and caressing them the way Hux so longed to.

The mere sight of him made Hux shiver in anticipation.

“Are you cold, Lord Hux?”

Hux let out a huff, but there was little heat behind it. Though he felt mildly irritated at being so obvious, he knew Ren meant no malice behind his teasing. He met Ren’s knowing smile with a smirk of his own, “There is indeed something in the air that is prone to making me shiver.”

Ren’s eyes flashed with humor. “Arkanis’ climate, perhaps?” he asked in mock innocence. “I would have thought you were accustomed to it by now.”

“Some things, I’m afraid, will never grow commonplace in my eyes.”

“That will not do,” Ren tutted. “You must be kept warm.”

Before Hux could react, Ren rose from his seat and came to nestle beside him. He reached out to Hux’s wrists, and in a matter of seconds had removed both of his gloves and took his hands in his; just as quickly, he bought them up in front of his mouth, so that there were coated in the warmth of his skin and breath.

The sensation of Ren’s hand surrounding his was enough to make him breathless. Then Ren’s lips came to brush against his fingertips, and he felt his whole mind flee in a state of stunned and elated lightheadedness.

Ren never looked away as he let his breath and hands warm Hux’s fingers. His gaze was the final step in keeping Hux thoroughly captive. Like a moth to a flame, Hux could only stare and lean ever so closer.

Ren’s smile was oozing self-satisfaction as he took in Hux’s countenance. He pressed a final, long kiss against the back of Hux’s fingers, before slowly lowering his arms to his lap. He did not release his hold on Hux’s hand, however; if Hux had his way, he never would.

“Is this better?” Ren asked, the candor of his tone ruined by the smirk on his lips. “By the flush at your cheeks, I assume I must have warmed you some.”

“Curse you, you infuriating man,” Hux mumbled, but he linked their fingers together and let himself lean against Ren’s chest.

By the time they had arrived at the Hux mansion, it was well into the night. Winston was there to greet them of course, taking Ren and Hux’s coat as servants were carrying their trunks to their respective rooms.

Not that Hux and Ren would be sleeping in separate chambers, but appearances had to be upheld.

The two of them declined Winston’s offer for a light supper, voicing their desires to retreat to bed sooner rather than later. Winston had acknowledged their wishes without so much of a knowing smirk, and after a low bow had set off to direct the necessary preparations. 

“Come along Ren,” Hux said once the butler had departed. “We must pay respects to my father.”

Ren’s eyes flashed with vicious amusement at Hux’s words, and he followed without a word of protest. He knew of Hux’s relationship with his father, and was not shy in voicing his scorn for the man.

He also knew of Hux’s preferred ritual when visiting Lord Hux, and was more than eager to participate.

Lord Hux had been put in his bed, but was not sleeping when Ren and Hux entered the room. He seemed to be expecting them, glaring at them as soon as they stepped through the door.

Hux’s smile was full of poison.

“Father,” he said sweetly as he sat at the edge of the bed, ignoring the way his father recoiled as he approached. “I would like for you to meet my lover.”

“Lord Hux,” Ren greeted. Such disdain in those two words, wrapped in a sheer veneer of politeness, Hux wished to kiss his right there and then. “The pleasure is _entirely_ mine.”

“He will be staying with us for quite some time.” Hux’s smile only widened when his father’s glare grew darker. “Worry not Father. I know you are incapable of exercising your duties as host, therefore I am more than willing to do so in your stead. I assure you Lord Ren will have every luxury at his disposal.” He patted Lord Hux’s hand. “The two of us will be occupying the main bedrooms. I have already persuaded Mary that smaller quarters would be more manageable for you, given the weakness of your constitution.”

“Armitage,” Ren chided. “Your father is incredibly frail. He needs his rest.”

Hux exaggerated a sigh. “You are right, of course.” He smiled benevolently at his father. “We will leave you be, father. I bid you a good evening.”

“You truly have a wonderful home.”

Hux let out a snort, which turned into an open chuckle when his father lurched forward. A pathetic attempt at aggression, one that turned into a truly pitiful sight when it sent him into such a terrible cough it seemed he was going to spit out his lungs. Even as he tried to glare he sagged back, not enough strength in him to properly settle himself back on his pillows. He lied half-bent in an awkward angle, like a broken puppet tossed aside.

Hux and Ren both left, Hux leading Ren by the hand all the way to his - their bedroom. That act alone sent a spark of thrill down Hux's spine. It felt like a milestone, though he could not properly explain why.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Ren placed his hands on Hux's waist, pulling him closer until their hips were pressed together. Hux let out a breathless laugh.

"You called me vicious," Ren purred. "But you have worlds of poison within you.”

"It come rather easily at times," Hux answered easily, hooking his arms around Ren's neck. "Especially with him."

"Not for much longer. Your father is at death's door."

“Speak no evil. I wish for him to survive for as long as possible.”

“He will see you become far greater than he ever was. It will not be the cancer that kills him, but the shame he shall choke on.”

“That is the plan,” Hux said, running his hands over Ren’s chest. “But enough of him. I never wish to speak of my father,” he said with a smirk. “But I find the thought particularly abhorrent now.”

“Oh?” Ren purred, letting his hands trail down the curve of Hux’s back. “Then what shall we speak of instead?”

“We will not speak at all,” Hux murmured. “Our mouths are put to better tasks.”

“You are the cleverest man I know,” Ren whispered against his lips. “But in this you are wrong.”

It was all the warning Hux received before he found himself shoved backwards. He landed on the bed with a light grunt, more for show than anything else as Ren had used his abilities to gentle Hux’s fall.

Hux sat himself up on his elbows just in time to see Ren follow him upon the bed, crawling over him with a sly smile and hungry eyes.

Hux shivered at the sight; more so when Ren began speaking.

“My mouth knows no greater purpose than to sing your praises, through words and through the worship of your body entire,” he murmured, his hands trailing up his chest, opening the buttons of his shirt through dexterity and magic. He gently caressed the hollow of Hux’s throat, before sliding his hand back to comb Hux’s hair.

When he leaned forward so that his lips hovered over Hux’s, Hux was already breathless. “But yours, Hux, yours has a higher purpose still: to let your moans and gasps spill from your lips, to have the sound of your pleasure fill the room. And then perhaps even scream, if I have proved myself worthy, if I have given you so much pleasure that for one moment you might forget the restraint you cling to.”

He kissed Hux then, not on the lips but at their corner. The chasteness of the gesture was at odds with how his hand roamed over Hux’s body, caressing the small of his back and his inner thigh, squeezing and stroking with just enough strength to tease. Ren smiled against Hux’s cheek when Hux could not keep himself from squirming, the light touches leaving him gasping for air and for more.

“You…” Hux panted. “You would have me moan like a whore…”

“Not a whore. Like my lover,” Ren murmured. He pulled away just enough so that Hux could see his eyes once more, see them filled with the familiar excess of emotions that Hux was fast growing to adore. “Be my lover, Armitage Hux, and let me love you like one.”

“Yes,” Hux breathed out, and reached out to pull Ren into a kiss.

Ren and he had embraced in such a manner many times before, yet this kiss might as well have been their very first for how it made Hux feel: overwhelmed, yet complete. Ren’s arms had snaked around the small of his back, pulling him closer until his chest was pressed so tightly against Hux’s that to be any closer would be to fuse together.

Hux tightened his hold on Ren’s hair, and willed himself to close that unbearable distance. There was nothing more vital in the world than for Ren to forever remain there, in Hux’s arms, an everlasting source of strength and affection that Hux wished to spend an eternity bathing in.

Ren broke their kiss first. Hux’s keen at the loss became an inelegant cross between a gasp and a choke when Ren’s began pressing kiss and nips at his pulse point, slowly working down Hux’s throat.

He did not stop when he reached the dip of Hux’s throat. Instead, he removed Hux’s open shirt entirely, and continued forging his trail of kisses down Hux’s chest. A regular, delicious rhythm that only came to a halt when Ren reached his nipple. Then he licked with a broad stroke of his tongue, sucked and nibbled, and Hux threw his head back with a nipple.

He had never believed himself sensitive in such a place, yet there was something about Ren that made the very notion of an erogenous zone irrelevant. It came from Ren, and therefore it was the most exquisite feeling in the world.

As Ren lavished Hux’s nipples with his attention, his dexterous fingers made quick work of Hux’s trousers. Hux felt his cock grow harder still when released from his confines, and moaned once more when Ren abandoned his nipple in favor of continuing his trail of kisses down Hux’s chest.

He had thought Ren might be a playful and sadistic lover, reveling in teasing Hux with light touches that were pleasurable but so far from what Hux truly craved. He had also imagined Ren to enjoy some roughness in his bed sport. Hux had built his expectations and anticipations around that, and felt more than ready and able to match Ren’s feral affection.

Yet Ren had been nothing but tenderness and care, soft hand and lips that made Hux’s mind reel. Each additional kiss and caress made Hux come even more undone, made him squirm from the pleasure and strangeness of it all.

It had never been like this. He had never imagine it could be like this.

“You… You needn’t be so gentle,” Hux panted. His right fist was tightly gripping the pillow behind him, while his left hand was tangled in Ren’s hair, desperate to touch back in whatever way possible but not knowing how.

Ren pressed a kiss to Hux’s thigh. “I know. I wish to.”

His breath brushed over Hux’s cock as his spoke, and it was all Hux could do not to buck further at the sensation.

He wanted to show restraint. Wanted to prove he was not the shy ingenue he so felt like.

Wanted Ren’s mouth on him. Wanted for his heart to stop pounding so very fast whenever he looked upon Ren and saw nothing but affection in his features, making him nearly weep at the beauty of him.

Ren trailed a finger over his groin, then down his cock from root to tip. He pressed a quick kiss to the head; Hux bit the back of his hand to keep quiet.

“Has one of your past lovers ever done this for you?” Ren asked, his breath once more a delicious torture over Hux’s aching hardness.

“One, once. She tried when I – ah! When I couldn’t show interest.” The words were pouring out of him, Hux’s mind far too gone for self-restraint. He might be embarrassed by this later. “My body responded as it was meant to, but I did not… care for the act beyond the physiology. And she sensed it.”

Ren hummed in acknowledgement, receiving the embarrassing confession with a grace that still surprised Hux even after all their time together. “Well, you certainly show interest now.” He flashed Hux a sinful smile. “I can assure you it matches my own.”

“Ren, I – Ren!”

Hux’s hand shot down to grip Ren’s hair, the action whole involuntarily but inevitable. Ren’s mouth around his shaft was too sinful, too _good_. Hot and wet, bobbing upon and down in a steady, slow drag that made Hux gasp for air. Ren’s hands were stroking the base of his cock, and were no less pleasurable.

Hux could only repeat Ren’s name like a mantra, the only word that made any sort of sense anymore, for Ren was the only thing that was real anymore. Ren and his mouth and his eyes, barely visible through his thick lashes but no less filled with lust and satisfaction and still so shatteringly tender.

God, but he was beautiful. So beautiful, and Hux had almost pushed him away. Had almost denied himself this wonderful, terrifying man as well as this wonderful, terrifying thing that was swelling in his chest, making him burn and glow and -

Ren’s mouth pulled up to suck at the gland, and Hux cried out.

“Ren! Ren!” he half shouted, half sobbed. His hands were tugging at Ren’s locks. “Please, no more, I…”

Ren pulled off, looking at Hux with a worried frown. Hux dragged him forward before he could say a word, pulling him into another kiss even as he was blindly tugging at Ren’s clothes, desperate to get them off.

It was no longer enough to be touched, he needed more of him. Needed to feel Ren’s skin beneath his fingers, trace every rise and every dip on his body until his fingertips were nothing more than a map of Ren’s body. He needed to kiss Ren’s skin until the taste never left his lips.

He _needed_ , more than he ever had before.

In his need he was clumsy, and did not succeed in his task until Ren’s hands came to cover his own, guiding them to the buttons of his shirt and helping him unfasten them. When the offending garment finally fell off, Hux let out a gasp that nearly turned into a sob.

Ren was a vision. Broad shoulders and sculpted body, strength infusing every muscle, it was the essence of Hux’s fantasies. The essence of his insecurities as well, his jealousies when he would spot those other cadets, and know himself too frail and pale to ever compare.

But this was Ren, who _wanted Hux._ Who looked upon him as if he were beautiful as well, desirable as well.

“Oh, oh _Ren._ Look at you,” he whispered in awe, his vision blurring as his eyes were coated in a thin layer of tears. “You are _mine!_ ”

"Yes," Ren breathed out. 

They were quick to remove the rest of Ren's clothing. Hux's heart, which was already beating impossibly fast, nearly came to a halt when Ren’s body was fully revealed to him. In that moment, he resolved to never fantasies again, for his imagination could never compare to reality.

Ren's was so much larger than Hux, so much stronger, yet Hux did not feel shamed by it in the least. For Ren's chest was pressed against his, and his arms were circling his waist. Ren's legs were tangled with his, his scent filled Hux's nose. Everywhere he looked, everywhere he touched, there was Ren, who was holding Hux as if he were the most precious being in the world. 

To be so surrounded, so _secure_ , was nothing short of bliss.

Then Ren began to move, a slow and languid thrust that made his cock brush against Hux's, and Hux gasped. When Ren moved again, the same way, setting a slow and steady pace, Hux buried his head in the crook of Ren's neck.

The sensation was beyond anything he had ever known, far beyond any of the ministrations Hux may have done to himself in the dead of night, alone in his bed. Because Hux was not alone, Ren was the one touching him, granting him that delicious friction that sent pleasure racing through his veins and fueled the tension and glow that was building up in Hux’s groin.

It was Ren. It was all Ren, who could hold him with one arm and caress him with the other, who was whispering soft praise in his ear and let out soft sighs of contentment. Ren, who despite his reputation of scandal and debauchery, touched Hux so gently, so sweetly

Hux buried his face deeper in Ren’s neck, stifling a moan against his skin. He jerked his hips, then again, craving more friction, and desperate for a more frantic pace, for some roughness he would be able to make sense of.

Ren wouldn’t let him. He pressed another kiss to Hux’s lips, and kept them both in that languorous, achingly gentle pace.

Hux was going mad.

“I will not…” he babbled. “I will not last. I haven’t… It… Ren!”

“It’s alright, Hux. I’ve got you.”

Hux’s vision turned white as his release washed over him. It pulled him down like a whirlpool, drowning him in pleasure. Hux saw stars at the bottom of an ocean, his own cries like howling wind far above a distant surface. Ren’s hands were the tide, and the waves, making him sink ever deeper into pleasure. His words were the lifesavers that kept Hux afloat.

Hux came back to himself an eternity later, finding himself in Ren’s arms, kiss peppered on his face. Ren’s body was still pressed against his, the evidence of his release stuck between them. Distantly, Hux mourned that he had not been able to witness it.

Tears were running down his face, and though Hux felt shamed by them they were barely a consideration at the edge of his mind. He was far too consumed by the terrifying, glorious experience that had shaken him so.  His entire being was a raw nerve, soothed only by Ren’s touch, which was real and grounding and all that Hux would ever need again.

And yet Hux wept, and could not stop.

“Do not….” He gasped, shaking and sobbing and unable to control any part of himself. “Do not mock me… Please Ren, do not…”

“No. No Hux, never,” Ren murmured, kissing the tears off Hux’s face. An endless task, when Hux only wept harder at the gesture. “No one has… such trust Hux, how could I ever…?”

And oh, Ren was looking at him with such awe, such _joy¸_ that Hux could not bear it. He drew Ren in for another kiss, only to find that Ren’s lips were just as expressive as the rest of him.

There would be no escape from this, and that meant that Hux could let himself surrender to it fully.

When they pulled apart, Ren brought a hand to Hux’s face, cupping his cheek with trembling hands.

“I wanted you,” he murmured in wonder. “How is it that I get to have you?”

Hux did not answer. Had he been able to, he would have repeated the exact same words, and meant them just as fully.

As it was, he could only shake and weep in Ren’s arm, huddling ever closer to Ren’s chest and heart, thinking of just how hard he was falling, and how wonderful it was that Ren had been the one to catch him.

**~*~**

Hux woke to the sound of teacups clinking against each other. Stirring in bed, he opened his eyes to find Ren gently shutting the door with his foot whilst holding a wooden tray in his hands. Upon it were a teapot, two cups, and a respectful amount of bread and marmalade – Hux’s preference when it came to breakfast.

Hux sat himself up as Ren came closer, letting his eyes trail over his form. Ren was wearing nothing but one of Hux’s bathrobes, made of thick burgundy fabric. It was slightly too small of Ren’s frame, and thus did not close quite enough. Ren’s chest was slightly exposed, and the robe was hanging slightly too low on his shoulders.

Hux licked his lips. “You went out like that?”

Ren shrugged. “I did not wish to wake you by dressing fully.”

Hux shook his head in fond dismay. There were many lectures he could make on appropriateness and discretion, but he doubted Ren would heed them. Besides, in that robe he was too enticing a figure for Hux to truly be upset.

Instead, he shifted aside to grant Ren more room to set the tray down. As he did, the sheet slipped from his waist to pool around his hips, leaving his chest and legs bare and groin barely covered. Ren faltered in his steps at the sight, pausing in his movements to watch Hux with a mouth parted open and eyes that took on a darker, more lustful shade.

To be on the receiving end of such desire was still a foreign experience, but one Hux was quickly developing a taste for. Ren’s gaze made him bold, enough to bypass his self-consciousness and modesty in favor of shifting his legs just so, showing them off to Ren’s scrutiny.

“I have never had breakfast in bed,” he commented idly, smirking as Ren’s head snapped back up to look at him.

“An atrocity I seek to remedy,” Ren replied easily, though his voice was a tone hoarser than before. He turned his attention back to the teapot, shaking off his lustful daze by busying himself with preparing their breakfast.

Hux watched with no small amount of amusement as Ren poured tea. His lover’s face was focused to the point of being nearly somber, as he went about his task with absolute seriousness. He checked three times to see if the tea was properly steeped, and whipped off a stray drop that had fallen on the saucer.

Hux perked up when he Ren began coating their toast with the different jams he had bought. “Is that blueberry jam?”

Ren startled, turning towards Hux with wide eyes. “I hadn’t known it was your preference. I am deeply sorry,” he answered, speaking quickly and making a move to stand. “I shall go fetch some immediately. I should have known, I’m sorry.”

Hux put a hand on his shoulder, “It is no matter.”

Ren shook his head. “You want blueberry jam. I can get some for you.”

“Ren,” Hux repeated, openly frowning now. Ren’s offer went beyond a mere desire to please; there was a distinct franticness as Ren made a move to stand again, his voice growing louder as he spoke.

“I can do this, Hux. Just let me-”

“Ren.”

Hux did not raise his voice, nor did he speak in anger. That more than anything else had the desired effect. Ren stilled, not fully risen, and let himself fall back on the bed at a gentle nudge of Hux’s hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his back turned to Hux, his shoulders slightly hunched. He would not turn to meet Hux’s gaze, but Hux simply knew that his eyes were shut and that he was biting his lips.

“You have made a habit of doting on me,” Hux murmured, scooting closer so that he was kneeling behind Ren. “But you have never been so frantic in going about it.” He lowered the hand that still rested on Ren’s shoulder, rubbing his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “What is the matter?”

Ren did not answer right away, and Hux did not press. Instead, he continued his gentle ministrations, trying his best to coax the tension out of Ren’s shoulders, pressing closed-mouth kisses on the crook of his neck.

Ren neither turned nor relaxed. Hux was beginning to worry that his own gestures were far too stilted, far too distant. He was not accustomed to granting comfort; was he making matters worse somehow?

But finally Ren’s shoulders dropped, his head feel back, and he let out a sigh. Hux felt his own shoulders sag in relief.

“You had a nightmare last night,” Ren said softly. He spoke those words as if they were the worst of tragedies.

Hux frowned. It seemed like such an insignificant reason for Ren’s behavior, barely an explanation at all. But to say as much would be of no help now, so instead he pressed another kiss to Ren’s neck.

“I don’t remember it,” he murmured, hoping it would be enough to sooth Ren.

“It happened none the less,” Ren answered immediately, his voice an unpleasant mixture of anguish at the fact and anger at himself. “Your dream bled into mine. Your distress became my own, and I could not wake from it. Or shield you from it.”

“It was just a dream, even if it was a bad one. It had no effect on me.”

“Dreams can haunt the mind long after one has awoken, even if they don’t remember it,” Ren argued back. He reached across his chest to put “In your nightmares you were small, and alone. Unrecognized, and unloved.”

Hux swallowed. Though he had no memory of the unpleasantness that had allegedly assaulted him in his sleep, he was all too familiar with what Ren was describing. It was the root of his restless nights, of his darkest thoughts. A long-lasting monster that had followed him through all his years.

His stomach dropped at the thought of Ren seeing all of it. He saw Hux’s fears, knew how terribly pathetic they were. Would he think Hux a small, pathetic child, the way Hux so often felt when those thoughts took a hold of him?

Sensing Hux’s distress, Ren’s expression hardened. His words were infused with determination as he reached up to his shoulder to cover Hux’s hand with his own. “I refuse to let those feelings take a hold of you. I will purge them from your soul so thoroughly they will never harm you again.”

“This obsession with protecting me, Ren,” he tutted, shaking his head. “Do I seem so frail to you, Lord Ren? Do you think me incapable of fending for myself?”

“No, but-”

“You are not responsible for my security,” Hux said resolutely. “I am, through my choices and their consequences. I am not a coward to run away from either.”

“But there is always a chance of an unpredictable awful, and what if it happens by my negligence?” Ren’s spoke through a tight throat, looking away again as his shoulder tensed. “My family is fraught with such tragedies, where those dearest to them are taken away. Either because they saw danger, but did not heed it; or because they tried to prevent it, but only caused more harm.” He let out a shaky breath. “I do not intend to make the same mistake. I finally have you; I will not let you be taken away.”

Hux sighed heavily. Of course Ren would not make this easy for him. How on Earth was Hux supposed to argue against family history and imagined catastrophes? He knew all too well the hold such dark thoughts could have upon the mind; especially when tied so deeply to ancient fears.

However, he did not want his frustrations to cause Ren to close in on himself. He reached forward, lacing his arms around Ren’s shoulders. He pulled the other man closer until his back was pressed against Hux’s chest. He smiled internally when he felt Ren instinctively relax against him, and pressed a long kiss to Ren’s cheek.

“You possess a power most men can only dream of,” he murmured, punctuating his words with another kiss. “If there is a truly a danger such as you describe anywhere to be found, I trust you to shield me from it. But to be sent in such a panic by something as fleeting as a dream is an insult to my strength, and a disservice to yourself. You deserve better than that.”

“But how will I know that I have done enough?”

Oh, but Ren sounded so very young in that moment. Like a child, desperate to please, desperate to avoid the consequences for failing to do so.

Hux’s heart clenched as long-buried fragments of his childhood echoed in Ren’s words. He did not want Ren to feel such things. Not with Hux, certainly not because of him.

“You are here. It is already enough,” he said, tightening his grip around Ren’s shoulders. “You are more than enough.”

Ren let out a choked breath, his entire frame shaking. Hux kept his hold strong and steady, his lips against the crown of Ren’s head. Internally, he was desperately willing Ren to believe his sincerity, if nothing else.

Belief in his words could come later.

Ren exhaled slowly, still shaking. Nevertheless, he reached for Hux’s hands that were linked together, covering both with his palm.

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

Hux pressed a kiss to Ren’s hair, feeling relief flood him in full. It made him chuckle, of all things, even as he shook his head in lingering dismay. “You ridiculous, dramatic man.”

Ren tilted his head, granting Hux a smile that was only half-sheepish. “I have been called as much in the past. But seeing as my dramatics are what allowed me to have you, I find I cannot regret them.”

Hux snorted. “I recall it differently.”

“Really?” Ren whispered. “Then how did I win you?”

Hux leaned closer, shifting to better face Ren. “You intruded into my house one morning,” he murmured, “and have never truly left me ever since.”

When he leaned down for a kiss, Ren met him halfway, his hand coming to tangle in Hux’s hair to keep him in place. It was a long time before they parted, and even then it was just enough so that they could look upon each other once more.

The tension had fully faded from Ren’s features. His eyes were soft and filled with gratitude as he gazed upon Hux, the back of his hand coming to caress his cheek. “I still wish to sooth your nightmares. You sleep far too little already, it would not do to have your slumber be restless as well.”

“I do not mind it.”

“That is because you have forgotten what true rest is,” Ren retorted. His expression turned wistful. “If I had access to your mind, and not merely your thoughts, I could soothe the anxieties and discomfort that bleeds into your dreams. I could chase any threat to your peace, making your sleep dreamless and deep.”

“I see,” Hux said slowly. “That is something, yes.”

Ren’s gaze focused on Hux once more, his entire being infused with a fragile eagerness and hope as he took Hux’s hand in his. “Will you let me in?”

Hux swallowed, unable to answer. Ren kept his gaze upon him, patient, waiting for Hux to say yes in a display of absolute trust.

Hux looked away.

He didn’t need to say anything at all. His refusal was evident enough.

Ren looked down, disappointment and hurt marring his features.

Hux suppressed a sigh.

“Come, Ren,” he murmured, taking his lover by the hand. “I will show you the garden today.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sooo..... I'm so sorry it took so long for this chapter to be posted! Both my beta and I encountered Real Life, a terrible beast, and we have battled most valiantly!
> 
> Anyway, after next week there will be no more exams, no more night shifts, and no more internships, so I should be able to keep a more steady update pace!
> 
> Special thanks to [mousiesshi](http://mousiesshi.tumblr.com/), as always. This chapter is truly much better thanks to the rewrites they encouraged me to do. No art in this chapter, but please check out the artist's work [here!](http://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com)

The Arkanis estate had never been more of a home than when Ren was within its walls.

Hux was certain Ren had worked some magic upon the place, for its halls had suddenly turned warmer, its wallpaper more vibrant. The air itself had changed, a slight, almost imperceptible shift; a static within the air, the silent promise that _Ren was here_ carried through the rooms even when Ren was momentarily absent.

It had all the trappings of a dream, a fulfillment of every frivolous thought and carefully hidden fantasy Hux had denied himself. Seeds of desire he had spent so long burying had bloomed in full the moment Ren cornered him on the balcony and kissed his resistance away.

On their third day there, the two of them had left for a short-day trip to the seaside. Arkanis’ beaches were no destination for resorts, with their coarse sand and perpetually agitated sea; it was for that reason Ren had delighted in them. Hux, in turn, had delighted in the sight of Ren breathing in deeply with closed eyes, letting the ocean’s air fill his lungs and blow through his hair. Ren was made to be among the rough elements, for he was a force of nature himself.

Their walk along the shore had been decidedly less delightful.

Ren had insisted that they remove their shoes to walk along the beach. Hux had complied, against his better instinct, and had soon regretted it. The sand was more akin to gravel, and the soles of Hux’s feet suffered terribly under their strain, until Hux could no longer bear to remain standing. He had sat himself straight on the ground, glaring sullenly at Ren who had been far too enamoured to properly pretend to be contrite.

In a moment of inspiration, Hux had presented his bare foot to Ren and had demanded that his lover rub his soreness away. Hux had smirked at the look of stunned lust gracing Ren’s face, feeling like quite the vixen in that moment. But then his lover had so sweetly complied, and had lavished Hux’s foot with the attention of both his hands and lips until Hux was left blushing furiously, biting his lip to keep from moaning as Ren’s hands slid further and further up his leg.

They had not been able to wait until their return to the mansion to finish what Hux had so brazenly initiated. They had sated their lust there in broad daylight, there on the sand, Ren looming over Hux with wind and salt in his hair. Hux felt akin to a mythological youth, sacrificed to an ocean’s god, and that thought was enough to tip him over into his own release, then flip Ren on his back to worship him until his lover’s desire was satisfied.

Yes, their time in Arkanis had been akin to a dream, and as such, it had ended far too soon.

How Hux had hated to say goodbye! That farewell had been far more long-lasting than any that had preceded. Their return in London meant their return to their duties, which differed for the first time in months. It would a week, perhaps ten days without Ren at his side.

How had Hux ever managed before?

“It will not be long, Hux,” Ren had said before they parted, pressing a final kiss to Hux’s lips. “I will see you soon.”

Hux could not hold Kylo to that promise, not with Snoke still looming. How he resented it.

There was nothing he could do about it, save distract himself from that fact. He poured his entire energy into finishing the last of the adjustments on his device in preparation for the large-scale tests that were to take place in the near future.

The matter of a suitable location for testing had been something of a problem, until Phasma offered to let him stay at the Phasma family Coruscounty estate. Her father and mother were not scheduled to return to that manor any time soon, leaving Hux free to stay there under the pretense of business to attend to. It was a believable lie, considering the military headquarters and barracks that were stationed in the region.

All that was left to do now was to dole out instructions for his trip. It would be the second in the span of a couple weeks, and surprisingly far less exciting than his travel to Arkanis. Hux attributed his lesser enthusiasm to simple weariness that came with hard work. 

“I will need you with me this time, Mitaka,” he said, looking through his papers as he spoke to his valet. “There are no valets currently in employ at Coruscounty. We’ll simply need someone else to mind this house in our absence.”

“Of course.”

“Your duties will be minimal, however,” he continued. “I do not expect that I will stay long, nor that I will be requiring any formal outfit. Though I suppose you may pack one, for precaution’s sake.”

“Yes, my Lord,” his valet responded.

“That will be all.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Mitaka said once more. However, he did not leave. “My Lord… If I may?”

“Yes?” Hux said distractedly, finishing his task before looking up towards Mitaka.

The smaller man shuffled nervously. “I would have never made such a request were I not to accompany you, but… There is a military base on the edge of the Coruscounty grounds.”

Hux frowned. “What of it?”

“I know some of the men I have served with are stationed there. Perhaps, my duties permitting, I might be granted an evening’s leave in town…  I have not seen them in quite some time you see…”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “You have grown quite demanding in the past month,” he said in a clipped voice, remembering Mitaka’s similar request in a similar situation. “Well, at least this time you are not using your mother as your excuse.”

Mitaka blushed, looking away in embarrassment.

Though really, why should he? Hux was the one who had made a fool of himself in the end, catching Mitaka in his lie by intruding in Phasma’s home in the middle of the night, a distressed drunk confessing to a weakness and desire that would have been his ruin had word gotten out.

And Mitaka had never so much as alluded to the incident, had not faltered in his loyalty to Hux, and had issued no judgment regarding his relationship with Ren. Hux had not dwelled on those facts before, but that did not make them any less significant.

“More than an evening, I should think,” he said finally; Mitaka deserved a reward, and Hux longed to no longer feel so in debt. “The reunion would be short, especially if you present yourself whilst they are on duty. Give me the name of your comrades. I will see what I can do to arrange for a day-long permission.”

In an instant, his valet’s face lit up. “Thank you, my Lord! Oh, thank you!”

“You are very welcome,” Hux said. Mitaka’s exuberant gratitude was as genuine as it was off putting. “I suppose I owe you as much. For your discretion if nothing else.”

Mitaka frowned. “You owe me nothing, my Lord.”

“It is true our mutual secrets cancel each other out,” Hux conceded. He did not enjoy the reminder, but he supposed the sentiment was fair enough.

“No!” Mitaka cried out.

Hux startled at the outburst; what reason did Mitaka have for such franticness? Was Hux not being generous already?

But it soon became evident that Mitaka’s concerns laid elsewhere. He drew in a shaky breath, closed his eyes as he tried to regain his composure. “I… Even then,” he said, in a much quieter voice that also held much more weight. It gave him an aura of confidence, even as he struggled with his words. “Betrayal is an abhorrent act, but more so when against a man one admires and respects.”

Hux stared.

He was not surprised that Mitaka felt as such, per se. He knew the man to be a loyal soldier and servant, devoted and meticulous once a task was mastered. To have it confirmed verbally was pleasant, but unnecessary.

The candidness was unusual however. Well-intentioned, to be certain, but… How was one supposed to react to such things?!

“The names of your friends, Mitaka?” he said, hoping to distract them both from his reaction.

“Oh!” Mitaka startled, blushing as he gave out his list.  “Matson, Burke and Vears.”

Hux hummed thoughtfully. “Some of those names are familiar.”

“Two of them served under you.”

“I see.” He had no recollection of any of these people. “Well, I am certain they were fine men.”

“Would you join us, sir?” Mitaka offered, timid in his astoundingly bold offer. “I am certain they would be delighted.”

Hux resisted the urge to sigh. Mitaka’s admiration towards him and his eagerness to please were a boon more often than not, but it also made him lose sight of propriety at times, especially, when Hux had been so lenient as of late.

“An officer can only be expected to lead if he remains above his men,” he answered curtly, returning to his task and ignoring the disappointment that was pouring off of Mitaka in waves.

 

**~*~**

Coruscounty was half a day’s carriage ride away, a fact Hux was incredibly grateful for when he settled into his seat and realized that Ren would not be seated in front of him. Nevertheless, the trip felt far longer than it ought to have, and Mitaka’s quiet and dutiful presence was a poor substitute for the ever infuriating outrageousness that Hux had grown so fond of.

Once at the Phasma estate, it had been incredibly easy to settle in. The servants were all professional and highly efficient, and had evidently been briefed in advance over Hux’s preferences. They accomplished their duty with such admirable perfection that Hux found himself free to devote himself entirely to his work. He looked over his weapons one last time until he was certain they were ready for the tests he had planned.

It was disconcerting to realize how diminished his enthusiasm for the task was when he did it alone. Hux chose not to dwell on it.

Even at the lazy pace he had set for himself, it took but a day to finish all the last-minute additions. To attempt to do any more would be both fruitless and foolish, and so Hux had to find some other manner to distract himself from his restlessness.

That evening, he had settled for resuming a book he had long neglected over the past month. It was not the most fascinating read, but it would suffice for the time. He had thought of demanding some tea, but Mitaka had been granted his leave for the evening, and he was in no mood to dole out detailed instructions to one of Phasma’s servants. He made due without.

The drawing room he settled in was an elegant meld of green wallpaper and cream-colored furniture. Fine china baubles sat on the table, the only object in view in an otherwise spotlessly tidy room. It looked nothing like Ren’s home, a fact that paradoxically made him think of Ren even more.

He shook his head, frowning at himself. Such an unproductive line of thought it was, he ought to rid himself of it. He ought to return to his book, lose himself in the pages until -

There was a bird tapping at the window; irritating, insistent, repeatedly pulling Hux out his thoughts until it became evident that he would be incapable of making abstraction of it. Hux looked up with a scowl. He really wished to throttle that pest, but that might prove to be rather messy so shooing it would have to –

The book slipped from his hand, hitting his knee as it fell to the floor. Hux paid it no mind, staring with wide eyes at the figure behind the glass. Bright eyes that shone with delight and self-satisfaction, an almost comically wide grin that was also breathtakingly charming.

Ren.

Hux rushed to the door, hands shaking as he turned the knob. As soon as he had opened it, he was swept into a tight embrace, one he returned with all the strength he had. He buried his head in the crook of Ren’s neck, taking in the scent of him. Ren did the same, nuzzling against the top of his head and breathing out Hux’s name.

It was ridiculous. He and Ren had not been separated for more than a couple of days, and yet Hux felt such profound relief and joy at the sight of him. He felt like a child in front of an unexpected gift, or a naïve maiden from a Parnassian novel. It was all so very foolish, yet he could not quite bring himself to care.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling himself away just enough to look Ren in the eye.

“I came to see you,” Ren murmured. “It was rather last minute, I wished for it to be a surprise.”

“Well you have succeeded. Though I do wonder if you are at all capable of giving proper forewarning-” Hux forced himself to drop that line of discourse; this was not the time for chiding. “How did you know to come here?”

“The Force.”

“Of course.”

“I lied. Phasma told me.”

Hux couldn’t help it: he laughed. He pulled himself in for another kiss, smiling into it as Ren grunted against his lips. When he pulled away for air, he could not bring himself to let go.

“You have already accomplished the task Snoke assigned to you, I take it?”

Ren shook his head. “It can wait,” he said, smile stretching as he thrilled at his own words. “He wishes for me visit each of our co-conspirators, to sniff out any sign of decent in their minds. But why go from door to door when he could easily summon them in one room? Why waste my time on men whose loyalty and weakness I am already assured of, when I could spend it on your brilliance and affection?”

“Snoke will be displeased,” Hux replied, all smiles as well.

“I will see it done, when we return to London. Snoke will not return to London for at least one week, and I need only two days to see the ones I have no visited yet. Snoke will never notice my transgression.”

The thrill that coursed through Hux’s veins at Ren’s open disobedience demanded that he kiss him again. Hux obeyed eagerly, letting his hands tangle into Ren’s hair and pressed his thigh in between Ren’s knees.

“You come at the right time, Ren,” he said against Ren’s lips. “I was just about to go to bed.”

“Oh, Hux, really?” Ren tutted exaggeratedly. “I ought to have the servants prepare me a room, at least.”

“These are Phasma’s servants. I am certain they have seen worse,” Hux replied easily, letting his right hand trail over Ren’s shoulders and down his arms. “Will you take me upstairs, Ren? I should like it if you carried me.”

“Oh, no, I think not,” Ren replied, stepping back so suddenly Hux stumbled forward.

When Hux looked up, his features torn between a glare and a look of utter confusion, Ren chuckled. “I can tell by the look of you that you have not stepped outside in at least two days. I seek to rectify that.”

“Ren…” Hux was no most definitely not whining.

“Not too long, just an hour or two. We will call it a brisk walk to work up an appetite.”

Hux huffed. “My appetite is already quite worked up.”

“Well, I myself feel incredibly wearied by my recent trip,” Ren replied airily, his smile widening at Hux’s mounting frustration. “Some fresh air would do me good, I think.”

Hux clenched his teeth, took a deep breath –

And released it almost immediately.

Who was he trying to fool? He had made a bad habit of letting Ren have his way long before today.

 “Fine, fine,” Hux grumbled. “I will allow you to drag me into one of your flights of fancy, _again._ Let me grab my coat.”

 

~*~

The walk through Coruscounty was hardly picturesque. The entire province bore the marks of the century’s technological progress, with factories and industrial towns having completely replaced a once green landscape. The proximity to a military base meant a heavy reliance on metallurgy and the synthesization of gunpowder, which seemed to add an additional layer of grey to an already morose place.

Nevertheless, Hux found himself enjoying their walk. It had all to do with Ren, whose presence was enough to turn copper into gold, mud into wine, and a hideous industrial wasteland into the romantic stroll Hux had never thought he might enjoy so much.

Not even the cold could dampen his mood, though as the sun set further into the horizon it became a more pressing concern. With men and women still surrounding them in the streets, he could not snake his hands into Ren’s coat as he so wished to, could not link their fingers together to feed on Ren’s never ceasing warmth. Instead, the two of them opted to take refuge indoors; the village’s pub, a few tens of meters away, would do nicely.

Ren opened the door for him, guiding him through the entrance with a hand on the small of Hux’s back. The gesture, discreet and illicit, made Hux shiver in mischievous pleasure, though he resolved to scold Ren for his imprudence, out of principle if nothing else.

The scold died on his lips when he spotted a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables.

Though Mitaka’s back was turned to them, Hux could still recognize the back of his head and shoulders, the later currently shaking with laughter at what one of his companions had said. There were three other men sitting at his table, all three wearing cavalry uniforms – from the symbols stitched on their sleeves, Hux could see that none of them ranked higher than sergeant.

Lower folks, then; they certainly looked the part. All three of them had rather large shoulders, the sign of many hours spent on manual labor, with their skin showing imperfection left from sun exposure. Two of them had a slouch to their posture, particularly the largest of the three, a blond man bearing an impressive moustache who sat in between Mitaka and a brown-haired man. Hux noticed the way he held the near empty pint in his hand, close to his chest as if it were a precious heirloom; he hadn’t thought that Mitaka would associate himself with a drunkard.

The only one among them that held any sort of high air was the sergeant among them, a man with greying hair who laid back in his seat at the end of the table with a rather distinguished air; the effect was ruined by the stain on his shirt and the manner in which he absent-mindedly picked at the calluses on his hands.

Next to them, Mitaka looked positively aristocratic.

“Hux?” Ren asked, eyebrows raised as he took in Hux’s demeanor. “Who are they?”

“Mitaka’s friends, I suppose. More importantly, far below me in rank,” Hux said quickly. He pulled Ren by the arm. “Let us find another place.”

“That meek little man is friends with that bunch?” Ren asked in wonderment, before shrugging Hux off easily. “I must know more. Let’s stay.”

“What are you - Ren!”

In two quick steps, Ren had advanced well into the pub. Hux remained where he was, immobilized by the conflicting desires to follow him and to bolt out of the door. He watched with a certain awed dismay as Ren made his way towards Mitaka, and placed a hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

It was a mild consolation to know that whatever dread Hux might feel at the sight, it couldn’t possibly match the utter horror on Mitaka’s face as Hux’s valet laid eyes on Ren.

“What are you doing here?!” Mitaka had bounced to his feet in a second, pointing an accusing finger at Ren’s chest. “You are not supposed to be here! You cannot coerce me into doing your bidding when you are not. Supposed. To. Be. Here!”

Ren blinked, too stunned for another reaction. “Oh my.”

As usual, Mitaka’s nerves caught up with him seconds after his outburst. He paled, clearing his throat. “Apologies, my Lord. I was not expecting you.”

Beside Mitaka, the large, blond haired man burst out laughing. “Ha! Vear, come an’ see this!” He shamelessly shouted across the room, his words slightly distorted by his permanent grin and his thick mustache. “Mitaka just shouted down a gentleman!”

The short, brown haired man came rushing from the bar. Despite his sturdy build, he appeared slight through the nervous gestures that racked his body.  “He did what?!” he cried out. Not waiting for a response, he turned towards Ren with a panicked speed. “M’lord, please don’t take the insult too sorely.” He punctuated each word with a wring of his hand, a behavioral tic that highlighted his large palms, making it all the more odd that a man of such stature would behave even more timedly than Mitaka.

“It is fine. I am more impressed than anything else,” Ren said with a shrug. He cocked his head to the side as he turned towards Mitaka. “I keep forgetting how much of a spine you truly have.”

“He is a surprising lad, isn’t he?” The large man asked. Hux wondered if he had already had a pint or two that evening, to speak so freely. “Wouldn’t pit him against a mouse on a first look, but look at him go!”

“For heaven’s sake, if you are going to talk to him then you need to introduce yourself,” the other whispered furiously, before his entire figure was shaken by a jolt. He turned towards Ren and Hux in obvious panic, his manic hands shaking as he delivered an approximate salute. “Farrier Sergeant Vears, my Lords,” he said hurriedly to correct his own behavioral flaw. “An honor.”

“Aye!” The blond banged his hand against the table, rising from his seat to give a military salute. “Corporal Burke of the 19th Hussar,” he bellowed, puffing his chest in pride.

Ren’s smile was nothing short of delighted at the man’s antics. It occurred to Hux that his infamous nights in several disreputable establishments had accustomed him to dealing with such people. “Kylo Ren,” he greeted back, foregoing his title completely. “A pleasure.”

“What are you doing here, my Lord?” Mitaka asked, trying so very hard to mask his question as nothing more than polite inquiry, and utterly failing.

Ren smirked. “Can I not go where I like, Mitaka?”

“Yes, but why _here?_ ” Mitaka all but whined.

“Ha!” Burke barked out. It seemed he used his singular laugh as a punctuation to his every sentence, emptying his entire lungs in one overly loud chuckle. “Excuse me gentlemen, I have a glass that needs refilling!”

True to his word, he slipped behind Mitaka to make his way towards the counter, bypassing an amused looking Ren.

This had gone on long enough, Hux decided. He was not going to spend the entire evening lingering in a doorway. Ren would most likely carry on the evening without him, too delighted in this newfound opportunity to indulge in drinks and play with a captive audience – even one that was made solely out of Hux’s long suffering valet. That Ren could so easily ignore him chaffed Hux’s pride, to say nothing of the more sentimental parts of him.

He would not let the situation stand.

As he made his way towards his fickle lover, he heard Mitaka desperately pleading with Ren.

“If I may be so bold, my Lord, I am certain Lord Hux would delight in your presence. I would be honored to direct you towards the manor, if you would just-”

“Touching concern, Mitaka,” Hux said with a sigh. “But slightly too late.”

“My Lord!” Mitaka snapped towards Hux so quickly Hux thought he might sprain a muscle. “You are here!”

“So we’ve established, yes.”

Mitaka stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed visibly unsure whether he found his Lord’s presence was a cause for relief or another cause for nerves. Given Hux’s firm refusal to accompany him, his sudden arrival must be more confusing than anything else to the poor man.

Before Hux could say anything to shake Mitaka out of his stupor, his attention was drawn towards the fourth member of Mitaka’s group, the as-of-yet unnamed  silent fellow with greying hair that had just risen from his seat. Hux glanced at the insignia on his uniform marking him as a sergeant,  a status that most likely came through seniority as well as merit; his entire demeanor gave the impression of a stern and focused mind. Hux would have appreciated him in a professional context, but at the moment he was more perturbed by the man’s unflinching stare.

Hux gave him a nod of acknowledgment, and was displeased at finding it unreturned. Someone of his station deserved a salute if nothing else, yet all he received from the sergeant was a thoughtful, scrutinizing gaze and a mutism that brought him supreme discomfort.

“Sergeant Matson,” the man offered, just before Hux was about to demand his name. Hux did not know if he was willfully skirting on the edge of insubordination, or if he was truly unaware of how close he came to invoking Hux’s ire.

“Burke!” Mitaka hissed, drawing Hux’s attention back to the rest of the group. Hux turned to see his footman glaring at the much larger soldier, who had just returned from the counter and was now slipping back into his previous seat. “You had best put your beer down, or else-”

Burke didn’t let him finish before he put his beer on to table – or rather slammed it onto it. “Of course!” he bellowed, turning towards Hux to give him a sharp salute. “An honor, sir. T’s not every day we are greeted by an Officer of high rank.”

Hux acknowledge the salute with a nod of his head, mentally reevaluating his judgement of the man. A shameless fellow, to be certain, but one who had a proper sense of respect; Hux felt far more at ease than he had facing the restrained but unnervingly silent sergeant.

“Yes, well,” Hux said clearing his throat. “We were only passing by.”

Burke nodded, scratching the back of his head. “M’sure an officer has better things to do.”

“I do have certain matters to attend to,” Hux replied, latching onto the pretext to leave.

Ren stepped forward then, shooting towards Hux a look that was half-warning, half-pleading. “Matters that can wait until tomorrow, surely?”

Hux forced a smile. “Come now, Ren. If we remain, then how will they be able to engage in the time-honored tradition of bad-mouthing their superiors?”

“Ha!” Burked laughed at Hux’s calculated display of lenience, like Hux suspected he would. He was reliable that way.

Mitaka, for his part, squeaked. “We have not a bad word to say about you, my Lord. I swear!”

“I am hardly naïve, Mitaka. It is the way of things. Lord knows I indulged in a few coarse words against my training officers when I was merely a cadet.”

Hux was at a loathe to share any sort of personal anecdote, yet it was a simple enough way to endear himself to the gathered assembly before he took his leave. As tempting as leaving after a curt dismissal sounded, Mitaka had been too devoted and solicitous beyond duty to deserve such behavior from Hux, especially considering it would put him at odds with his friends.

Moreover, if he were to simply leave Ren would most likely not follow, and that was simply unacceptable.

“It’s true!” Mitaka protested. “Not a bad word!”

“Aye, I second the sentiment,” Burke added. “We didn’t see much of the higher officers back on the front. But for those who were on the front lines… You were one of the better ones to serve under.”

Hux blinked. “Truly?”

Of all things he had expected from these men, a compliment was not one of them. Especially one so freely given

It was disconcerting, to say the least. And incredibly pleasant, if highly suspicious.

“Oh, I must hear more of this,” Ren said eagerly. He sat himself in the chair directly in front of Burke, not even looking at Hux for his opinion. “Carry on,” he urged.

Ren looked so delighted at the conversation that Hux suspected there was more to it than simply curiosity at Mitaka’s companion or at the good opinion these men held of Hux. He took to the pub with an ease that betrayed his past in such establishments and an eagerness that more befitted a starving man being promised food.

It must have been quite a long time since he had been among a crowd in such a manner, Hux realized. Despite his reputation, Ren had never caused a scandal since Hux had first met him, largely because he spent most of his time with Hux alone. Before that, well… Ren had certainly never been a true member of the Military, for all the authority he wielded in the _New Imperium_ ; moreover, he had said to Hux that Snoke had barred him from returning to the brothels and drinking establishments he used to frequent, and Hux could not think of any other occasion where Ren might associate with other people...

It must have been quite some time since Ren had found himself part of a group. Hux had underestimated how much he missed it.

Was it that same loneliness that had made him so eager to pursue Hux all those months ago?

He quickly chased the thought from his mind before it could bloom any further.

Though it stung that Ren would desire any companionship beside Hux’s, Hux found himself reluctant to deny him. Let Ren have his fun, he decided, though he was unsure how long his patience would last in such lowbrow company.

Reluctantly - though slightly less than before Burke’s enthusiastic praise - Hux sat on Ren’s left, as closely as propriety would allow. Vears took a seat at the end of the table on Hux’s right, eyeing Hux as he did as if expecting a reprimand.

Burke nodded. “Bad enough to be sent to fight the Russians. I have known a few officers during my service that would have made the ordeal much worse.”

“I thank the Lord every day that we were not made to remain stationed there,” Mitaka added. “It was so very cold.”

“That was motivation enough to end the war as quickly as possible,” Hux said after a moment, still feeling incredibly off balance.

“You did a good job of it.”

The three of them turned towards Matson, who was still leaning back in his chair with casual confidence. Ren sat in front of him, entirely ignored as the sergeant’s heavy stare was upon Hux once more. Ren discretely made a gesture for him to sit down.

Hux obeyed, distractedly, still focused on Matson.

“Being under your command saved my life, I reckon,” the sergeant added, somehow managing to make his statement sound both grave and casual. “Not many officers use the artillery as much as you do. Or as bloody well. I know Captain Gordon would have sent us to the charge ten times over before we managed to take care of the Russians.”

The more Matson spoke, the more Hux had to fight to keep his mouth from hanging open like a simpleton. His surprise didn’t come from Matson’s judgement – Hux held a similar opinion of himself, and his undoubted prowess – but from hearing his worth clearly stated by a third party. Matson spoke his assessment with the confidence of a veteran, causing a glow of satisfied pride to light itself in Hux’s chest.

It shouldn’t matter what these men thought of him. Hux was high above them, and had no need for their approval or opinion. And yet, these considerations seemed very distant at the moment.

Perhaps not such an unfortunate turn of events that Ren had pulled him here.

“Captain Gordon was an idiot,” he said, letting his stiff shoulders relax as he settled back with a confident smirk.

“Ha!” Burke slammed the table with his fist. “I’d drink to that, lads!”

“Is that a hint?” Hux asked. He was smiling, he realized, drunk on the praise he had just received. It was that unseemly but addictive giddiness that made him call over a waitress. “A pint for each of these gentlemen.”

Burke’s delight was palpable. “Cor, Captain Hux! If this is how you treat your soldiers, it’s a darn shame you are no longer stationed with us!”

“It’s Major now,” Mitaka corrected, though not too sharply. He seemed relieved more than anything else, as he looked between Hux and his companions with a private smile.

“Major, huh?” Matson repeated pensively. “That’s good. Was warranted at least. I have seen far too many men rise through the ranks through pocket alone.”

Hux might have misjudged this group. Mitaka had some fine tastes in companionship.

Beside him, Ren nodded in response to Matson’s words. “Agreed. The debacle that was Crimea has been a valuable lesson in the lacking of the previous generation of officers. It is a shame that only time can replace a defective generation.”

Hux turned towards his lover in surprise. From where did Ren hold this opinion? Hux had never known him to care about the affairs of war before.

Matson raised an eyebrow. “You are a military man as well, my Lord?”

“Not me, but my grandfather was a General some time ago - long before the Crimean war, but he was visionary enough to predict the blunders that would plague that campaign fifty years before it began,” Ren elaborated, pride shining through his voice. “He was General Anakin Skywalker.”

“Skywalker?” Vears asked, the sole word the timid man had spoken in the last fifteen minutes.

Ren turned towards him and nodded, visibly pleased that someone at the table had recognized the name. It irritated Hux that he himself had not; yet his time at the Academy had educated him in the names of every General England has ever had. The name of General Skywalker featured nowhere.

“My Da served under him at Waterloo. Still speaks about the bolocking he gave the French midget.” As he spoke, Vears became more and more animated; it translated into manic hand gestures. “Couldn’t praise him enough too; the patron saint of all soldiers Skywalker was, if you believed my Da.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ren answered, his affection at modesty completely undermined by the proud grin he bore. “He has been something of a role model to me.”

“Aye. Shame he died at war.”

“Yes,” Ren repeated slowly. “A shame.”

Burke, who had been quiet for an uncharacteristically long time, banged his fist on the table. “A toast, to those fine gentleman” Without waiting for a response, he raised his glass, eager for an excuse to down his drink. “To General Crywalker!”

“Skywalker,” Vears corrected with a frown.

“Aye, aye, it doesn’t matter,” Burke said, before downing the rest of his cup. He did not notice, or maybe care, that no one had followed suit.

Hux glanced at Ren, surprised to find him with a sour look rather than one of amusement. On another man, Hux would have attributed the reaction to Burke’s poor manners, but he knew Ren was, sadly, not one to care about such formalities.

His confusion at Ren’s reaction didn’t stop the tingle of thrill from running up his spine as he saw Ren bear a familiar smirk. Eyes turning dark, leaning back in his seat, he looked just as he had when Hux had set eyes on him at the Queen’s ball: a predator who had just found its prey.

Hux had sneered at Ren back then; now, he adored seeing his lover like this.

“If you are going to toast to a man, do it properly.” He waived the staff and requested two more pints, before turning back towards Burke. “Another toast, with the right names this time.”

Burke laughed. “I would, m’Lord, but I would not wish to cause some to drink more than they can handle!”

“Really?” Ren smiled as the waitress brought his order. “That will not be an issue.”

With that, Ren brought the glass to his lips, tossing his head as he downed the entire drink without pause. It took barely five seconds for the entire pint to be gone.

When Ren put it down, he smiled far too widely to be genuine. Burke stared with an open mouth.

Matson let out an impressed whistle. “Damn.”

Ah, no. Hux could have been lured into a conversation with these men, but if the evening was to devolve into a drinking contest than he would leave post-haste. As much as he enjoyed seeing Ren toy with his designated victim, the scheme would steal Ren’s attention completely.

Hux would never abide that.

He leaned towards Vears, who was settling himself into his seat in preparation for an long-lasting battle. With Ren and Burke attracting most of the attention it was easy to discreetly murmure to him: “If I were you, Vears,I would separate the two of them rather soon. Unless you wish to deal with some heavy property damage.”

Predictably, the nervous little man’s eyes widened.  “Why?”

“Ren has a reputation, shall we say. I have no doubt he can hold his liquor, but best not tempt the devil,” Hux elaborated, feeling no shame as he slandered Ren for his gain. “I think some fresh air would do him no small amount of good.”

“The man looks as sober as when he came in!” Vears argued, just loud enough to catch Mitaka’s attention. He deflated just as quickly as he looked at the two men who had just ordered another pint each. He scratched the back of his head. ‘I’m worried about Burke, myself. He has already received more than one lashing for likin’ the bottle too much.”

“Then perhaps we ought to take care of our respective friends,” Mitaka stepped in, patting Vears on the back whilst giving his Lord a knowing look. Knowing, but not judgmental; he truly was a fine servant.  

Vears nodded. “Right you are. We need to be in prime shape tomorrow. The Lieutenant Colonel doesn’t take too kindly to permissions he hasn’t granted himself. And he don’t grant many.”

Hux’s smile was tight-lipped, but genuine as he got what he had wanted. “Try to return my valet in one piece.”

Satisfied that Vears and Mitaka would assist him, he turned his attention back towards Ren. His lover had already gotten another pint for himself and Burke, though he had not yet begun drinking. Instead, he bore a satisfied smirk as Burke downed his glass and coughed as he put it down. The soldier was already looking more than a little hazy; there was no doubt that he would be in a sorry state tomorrow

Hux didn’t know what precisely had invoked Ren’s wrath, but it was hardly his concern now. Distantly, he hoped that Mitaka, Vears, and Matson would prevent him from meeting disciplinary measures. despite Burke’s boorish behavior, Hux had come out of their conversation with a rather positive opinion on the man.

“Come along, Ren,” he said primly as he placed a hand on his lover’s shoulder.

“A moment longer, Hux,” Ren

“Now, Ren,” Hux repeated, far more sharply.

Ren looked up towards him, startled by Hux’s tone. He looked frazzled, and it occurred to Hux that it was the first time since the beginning of their liaison that he had ever raised his voice against Ren. It obviously took Ren off-guard, and he looked more uncomprehending than miffed at Hux’s steely gaze. His eyes turned unreadable as he studied Hux’s face.

Hux grit his teeth, ignored his unease at the sight and remained firm.

Whatever he saw on Hux’s face, it must have been enough for him to understand that Hux would not take no for an answer. He rose from his seat with a slightly dejected air, before quickly schooling his expression into casual cheeriness. Hux resisted the urge to look away, focussing instead on the satisfaction that he would soon have Ren all to himself again.

Ren pushed his glass towards Burke, ignoring Mitaka’s glare, before following Hux outside.

“We could have stayed longer,” Ren said once they were alone. “I am certain that-”

“I’ve indulged you enough,” Hux snapped. “Can you not move on?”

Ren pursed his lips. The novelty of Hux’s ire had obviously worn off, leaving him free to express his displeasure. “I did not wish to leave quite yet.”

“I had no desire to stay, yet you made me,” Hux retorted, making a move to walk away.

This was ridiculous. Why was Ren making such a fuss!

Ren grabbed his arm, holding him back and forcing Hux to face him once more. “I could have known if you let me read your mind!” He shot back, brows furrowed in a petulant pout. “If you but trusted me!”

Hux snatched his arm away. “I made my sentiment on the matter quite clear, I think!” He hissed.  “You would make yourself far more agreeable to everyone if you could just do as your told!”

Ren recoiled at that, eyes wide. He opened his mouth in mute shock, before closing it abruptly. His shoulders sagged as he looked down in defeat. “I’m sorry,” he murmured plaintively. “Had you insisted… I would have behaved as you wished.”

It was the response Hux had wished for, but it brought little satisfaction. Not with Ren looking so mournful, so drained from one comment. Still, Hux could hardly apologize for it, not without losing ground. He simply… couldn’t.

Ren would understand Hux hadn’t intended on being so curt, Hux reasoned with himself. All he needed was some time.

The argument did not sound convincing, even in his own mind. The fact that he had to coaxe himself into stoicism was new in itself.

“It is no matter,” Hux said with a sigh. “Let us go home.”

The two of them began their walk back in strained silence. Hux was grateful at least that Ren neither stormed ahead nor purposefully lingered back. He walked at Hux’s side, willing to share his presence if not his good mood.

Slowly, however, Hux felt the tension in Ren’s body slowly release, and he himself felt his heart unclench as a result. After a couple minutes, Ren spoke once more, obvious in his desire to return to a more peaceful rapport between the two of them.

“One day, Hux, I will persuade you to join me in drinking,” he said with forced idleness.  “I long to know what sort of man you are when you indulge in more festive alcohol.”

“Hush, you child,” Hux huffed, though he was relieved at Ren’s efforts to align himself with Hux’s desires, for it saved them from additional, unnecessary unpleasantness. He tucked his hands under his elbows to shield them from the cold. “You came to me. I do not intend to lose you to a bottle and an ill-advised competition.”

“I wouldn’t have lost. The Force shields me from drunkenness.”

“Of course it does,” Hux mumbled. “And that is hardly the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

Hux bit his lips. “I do not wish to linger in such an establishment, sharing you with such people.”

Ren halted mid step, taking Hux by the arm to force him to stop as well. He turned to face him fully, not speaking until Hux met his eyes.

“You need not worry about sharing me, as I am entirely yours,” he said softly. He made a move to caress Hux’s cheek, but Hux dodged his hand: this was too public a setting.

Ren put his hand down, biting his lip. “As for the rest…It is understandable, I suppose, though there is something to be said about expanding your social scene.”

Hux scoffed. “What for?”

“I have no good answer for that.” Ren appeared much more hesitant suddenly, glancing back at the pub whose lights were still visible in the darkness. “Was it unbearable for you? You tend to deny yourself so much so quickly, closing in on yourself far too easily. If I do not push you out of the cloister you insist in keeping yourself in, I fear you will miss on so much, and not even realize it.”

“You might have consulted with me first,” Hux retorted, but there was no heat in his voice. He sighed, resuming his walk down the path that led back to the manor. “It was fine, all things considered. Rougher folk than I thought Mitaka would associate with. But if they are still members of the Hussars, then I suppose that is commendation enough.”

Ren hummed. “They are fond of you.”

Hux snorted.  “Well, they would not speak ill of me to my face, would they?”

“I mean it.”

“So do I.” In truth, that self-awareness had not come instantly, but the fresh air had done wonders in clearing his mind. With some distance, it was easy to remember how dishonest praise could be, and how dangerous it was to be taken in by it.

“Hux- ”

“They are common folk, Ren, who enlisted for the Queen’s shilling or for lack of a better choice. Perhaps one of them even joined to obtain release from prison, though I doubt Mitaka would associate with the likes of such people. Whatever the case, they are people motivated by their need for money. I have no doubt they do not take too kindly to having an officer among them – no matter their claims otherwise.”

Once again, Ren forced them both to a halt, though this time he did so by stepping in front of Hux. When Hux recoiled to avoid bumping into him, he caught him by both arms, stabilizing him as well as preventing him from backing away any further.

 “Hux, if you do not trust their words, then trust mine.I saw into their minds, I saw what they think of you. Your competence kept them alive, kept them as well fed as they could hope to be, and that is enough to spare you their scorn. There are more than enough other officers for them to unleash it against, officers who can claim neither of your accomplishments.”

 “I did my duty as an officer, nothing more.”

“Yes, well,” Ren replied easily. “Sometimes, the minimum is enough. Especially when no one else has granted it before.”

“Oh…”

“Though admittedly, the fact that you left them enough money to pay for their liquor without denting their pay endeared you to them.”

Ren meant the addition as a jest, most likely to coax a reaction out of Hux. It failed to have an effect, as Hux remained deep in contemplation. Though he flattered himself on his skepticism, he did not believe for a moment that Ren would flatter or pander him. He spoke the truth, and that knowledge seemed to somehow imply far more complicated consequences than even Hux would have suspected.

The warm glow in the depth of his chest had returned. It seemed an almost automatic response within him to any sort of recognition. It was an uncomfortable thing to discover within himself, more so when the source of the compliments were hardly the sort of people he ought to wish them from. And yet…

Hux let out a laugh, half-joyful and half-dejected.

Ren frowned. “Is everything well?”

Hux shook his head. “It must be fate’s sense of irony that I should finally earn recognition from such base folks.”

“You like it,” Ren stated, firmly if fondly. “We could go back.”

“No, I think not,” Hux shook his head. “If I were to return, I would soon find myself assaulted by unease at our differences, or at their lower behavior. Perhaps alcohol would solve the issue, but with these men? Never.” He shrugged. “Best keep this encounter brief; a fond memory for both our groups, which will not be tainted by our attempt to mesh two classes that which cannot be brought together.”

Ren chuckled at that.

Hux felt rather miffed. “Did I say something amusing?”

“Not at all. I am merely recalling one of the final arguments I had with my mother. I spoke similar words to her; she found them absolutely abhorrent.”

“Yes, well, I always found her politics to be foolish,” Hux replied, choosing not to point out that Ren had been quite eager to mesh with such lower classes not ten minutes ago. “Was that the cause of your split?”

“In part,” Ren replied immediately, then paused before he elaborated. Some tension returned to his brows and his shoulders as he discussed the sensitive topic, but he needed not be pressed to elaborate. “Though it was more symptomatic of a larger issue. The simple truth is that I have finally learned how much she intended to shackle me. So many lies and restraints placed upon me, all because she…” He swallowed. “She would make everyone equal by dragging down anyone who might be great. She would call upon restraint and absolute morality, and in the end proved incapable of following her own rules. That hypocrisy is what made me depart from her in the end.”

“And then?”

“I met Snoke. He encouraged me to break free of my shackles, and explore my freedom. You know the rest.”

“Yes,” Hux murmured in reply. There was nothing else he could think to say.

“Of course, my master demands some manner of discipline, and has restrained my powers in the past, but it is always for my betterment,” Ren continued. There was a slight glaze over his eyes as he lost himself in remembrance. “There was a time when he bared the minds of others to me, making me unable to read so much as a surface thought. Or he would distort what might read, leaving me to parse out which thoughts were real and which were not. He meant for me to learn how to read others without my abilities. It was… disconcerting.” His voice lowered to a murmure. “I failed, and he gave up in the end. Nevertheless, he forgave my lacking.”

“I see…” Hux said. It was a paltry response, but he could think of nothing to say. Despite how obviously perturbed Ren had been by the experience, Hux did not understand the Force enough to feel comfortable offering his sympathies.

Ren sobered up. “I have never known true peace until I have followed his teachings.” It was strange, the way Ren spoke. His words had an edge of mindless automatism, and yet were also filled with years of emotions unvoiced. “I owe it to him to stand by his side, as he has been by mine in my time of need.”

“I find it odd that someone as opposed to restraint as you would throw his lot with the military.” It had been source of perplexity for Hux for quite some time, but before now he had not had the occasion to voice his confusion.

Ren shrugged. “Someone has to lead. I don’t particularly care about the details, I only wish the world Snoke would bring, the perpetuation of ideals that great men have dedicated their entire vision to. If Snoke believes that martial law is the best then I trust his vision.” He smiled then, his eyes filling with such tenderness as he linked his fingers with Hux’s. “I trust yours. You will conquer the world, Hux.”

The touch and the words sent a jolt of pleasure up Hux’s spine, followed by a gently rising tide of warmth and affection. A sensation Ren commonly inspired within him, yet one Hux could never stop marveling at. If he had his way, those feelings would never cease. And by luck – and oh, how fortunate Hux felt these days! – it never would, for Hux was truly beginning to believe that he would never be deprived of Ren, who was both the opiate and its supplier.

This was dependence, truly and fully, yet in this moment Hux could not mind it in the least.

It was not all Ren had changed. Joy, ambition, triumph, Hux’s entire perspective on life had been redefined, so that at the center was no longer his own self but the pair of them. To live was no longer a painful climb, but a journey that was both for profit and leisure. An entire existence could be spent doing nothing but being by Ren’s side, and it would be well spent.

Ren had done this to him. And Hux adored him for it, far more than he might fear it instead.

“And when there is nothing left to conquer, I will not weep,” he murmured, leaning against Ren’s side as they resumed their walk. “For then I will share it all with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) As a French person, it is my God Given Right (TM) to refer to Napoleon as the French Midget.  
> 2) If any of you are curious about the "Crimean Debacle" referred to in this chapter, here are a few anecdotes to be found [here](http://www.victorianweb.org/history/crimea/blunder2.html). (And some more information about the Victorian Army [here](http://www.militaryhistoryonline.com/general/articles/officersandgentlemen.aspx) .)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been a month since last chapter! Things happened, again. I can only thank mousiesshi and GalifreyanOmnishambles for their patience.
> 
> This chapters isn't quite as betaed as past ones, for very embarassing reason (I gave my beta the wrong one during the second proof reading..) But I really wanted to get it out!
> 
> No art in this chapter, but next one there will be!!! Get excited!!

 

The day Hux’s tests were planned had begun in a most delightful manner. Hux’s eyes had fluttered open to find Ren’s sleeping face mere centimeters away from him. His lover seemed so peaceful in slumber, so strangely young and guileless, that Hux could not stop himself from pressing a kiss to his lips. It had been enough to wake up Ren, who, rather than annoyed at the disruption, offered Hux a sleep-filled smile. With a mumbled greeting he’d reached out, covering Hux with the bed’s blankets at the same time as he drew him closer into an embrace.

The blankets had been warm; Ren had been warmer, and so Hux huddled closer even as he stole another kiss from Ren’s lips.

They had spent a good hour in such a manner, trading lazy affection that remained chaste, with only kisses and caresses that still drew out moans and contented sighs form Hux’s lips. It was almost enough to make Hux wish to linger in bed all morning.

However, scientific pursuit and the draw of power proved an enticing enough siren to coax him out of Ren’s arms and into the cold and filthy streets of the village they now stood in. To call it a village was generous, as it was little more than a haphazard collection of houses; small, struggling businesses built to accommodate the growing industry of that area; and a few storage facilities that were for the most part left unsupervised, or at best poorly guarded.

Hux and Ren had elected to conduct their tests on of the later, a stone building which consisted of little more than four walls, and a rusting roof. With an intimidating air and the use of the Force to bend the will of others to his own, Ren had quickly emptied the surrounding area from the workers, beggars and drunks that once held residence there, thus granting them absolute privacy as they went about their business. He had even used the Force to bring down in front of the entrance a rusted but heavy metal sheet that was most likely left-over construction material – thus ensuring that no one would make it through the door, should Ren’s abilities not keep them at bay. Hux would have preferred to go through his tests in the comfort of Phasma’s home, but had easily recognized the infeasibility of such a plan.

This storage facility they stood in was but a kilometer away from an abandoned factory, the fruit of a failed enterprise by an unskilled businessman. Hux had placed the _Dreadstar_ in the center of an abandoned hangar. In his hands, he held the other half of his design, more discreet but no less extraordinary. A small shard of crystal held between to metal pinchers, surrounded by a series of concentric loops, it was somewhat reminiscent of Ren’s gyroscope. Yet this unassuming construction was the center of his creation, for it allowed him to activate the _Dreadstar_ stored within that hangar.

When Hux would activate the central device in his hand, the energy contained within it would begin to build, until the resonance created between the two crystals would begin drawing it out. Hux had witnessed it several times in his workshop: energy building up in one gem, only to be then released through another that stood a few meters away. He had never been able to explain it fully, and Ren’s explanation of the Force _binding_ the two crystals had not been satisfactory.

It hadn’t mattered, in the end. It had been a scientific wonder birthed by Hux’s own mind, and now Hux would see it on a much larger scale.

By Hux’s calculations, it would take only no more than ten minutes the device in the hangar would be fully charged. At which point it will release a momentous blast, which would bring down the entire structure. The resulting destruction would easily be blamed on structural instability and the lingering explosive material that had no doubt been left behind.

Remote activation at such a distance, with neither wires nor cables connecting the remote to the ignition had never been done before. It was a groundbreaking scientific advancement, and one Hux was at the center of.

Through the thin wall of trees, he could hear the passage of carriages and men, continuing their ordinary lives unaware that history was in the making.

“Are you ready, Ren?”

Ren’s eye roll was very nearly audible. “I have been for the past ten minutes. You are the one who cannot stop tinkering.”

Hux’s jaw ticked at the irreverence. He turned around to glare at Ren. “Remember, when this starts -”

“- I will make sure than no passerby wanders anywhere near this place. And I will refrain from interacting with the Force, so as to not falsify the outcome. We have discussed it a few times already.”

Hux sniffed. “Yes, well, it is of the utmost importance.”

Ren gave a mocking salute, not all chastened by Hux’s miffed expression. “At your command.”

Oh, Hux would have words with him later. For now, he bundled himself in his pride and turned back towards his creation.

“And so we begin,” he announced, though Ren was the sole member of his audience. It still surprised Hux that Snoke had trusted him enough to test this device without further supervision, but he was in no mind to question it.

This moment was the culmination of all he had worked for. He wanted to share it with no other than Ren.

With that, he reached for the small gear at the edge of the activator, and turned it. The pinchers creaked and strained, closing in on themselves, until the crystal shard cracked. In the same moment, the metal loops began spinning on their axis.

Hux watched as the entire process began to accelerate, the metal frame spinning faster as the crystal began the glow. This was the physical manifestation of Hux and Ren’s collaboration: the crystal had been infused with Force energy, courtesy of Ren’s manipulations. Hux, in turn, had devised a way to release it with no Force ability of his own.

And now the power was building, unstoppable. Here, it looked like nothing more than a red glow and a metal frame. A kilometer away, in an abandoned hangar, a storm was brewing.

Hux watched several laws of physics be dismantled as his creation kept on producing unparalleled energy out of seemingly nothing. There would not be the five branch pattern he had witnessed the other devices produce, not with the energy contained in this one being transferred to the other device a few kilometers away. Still, the build up of raw power was a far more impressive sight than even he had anticipated.

Almost too impressive.

The elation and pride that had slowly been filling Hux vanished in a moment. In their place was nothing but dread and a rising horror.

This… this was not as he had planned. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“Ren…” he croaked out, barely hearing his voice over the blood pounding in his ears. “Something is wrong.”

An understatement to say the least. His own device was slipping out of his control: his calculations were off. The buildup of power was growing far too quickly, far too wildly. Rather than the steady, powerful red glow he had witnessed in the past, the light coming from the crystal was a crackling flame, sparks flying out of the crystal when they should have been contained.

The power built up in pulses, like the heartbeat of some unknown beast. And with each wave, more of the power was emitted through resonance, vibrating through the air to reach the other device…

A device that was no more equipped to handle that level of energy than this one. Hux’s calculations had never accounted for such a thing, and though perhaps the metal frame would allow some of the excess to be contained, if the build-up continued in this vein…

The explosion would be much greater than planned. Ten times… a hundred… Hux did not _know._

Horror had frozen him in place, had rendered him slow-minded and sluggish as he looked upon an oncoming disaster with the only thought in his mind an endless, soundless protest that _this wasn’t supposed to be happening._

But then the flare became a shade too bright, the frame spun a fraction too fast, and a stray spark escaped from its containment and hit his hand. Hux drew it back with a hiss, reality reasserted itself once more, bringing with it the sharpness of mind that only came with the direst situations.

“Ren, the Force! You must stop it!” he yelled, turning back towards his lover. “Stop it now!”

His heart froze when he saw Ren’s face, utterly pale and frozen in shock.

In that moment he knew what Ren would answer, and,tragically, was not proven wrong.

“I… I cannot.”

Hux drew a sharp breath. “What do you mean you cannot?!”

Ren was ignoring him, eyes transfixed on the glowing crystal I fascinated horror. “I don’t understand… It is as if it is fighting back…” He stammered. “Hux… I can’t… I can feel the power, I cannot fix it.”

Dammit. _Dammit all to hell!_

But no, they could not waste time in such a manner. The two of them needed to act fast. If containment was not an option, then evacuation was the next option.

“We need to leave,” Hux said, calling upon his experience in command to keep his voice cool and steady. “The burst will start a kilometer away, but the blast zone will be much greater than I had calculated, we are most likely standing in it as we speak… we need to leave!”

Ren nodded once, not even waiting for Hux to finish before he began running back towards the main road. “How far away?” he asked, not stopping as they made their way through the trees.

“It depends on how much greater the power output is. I do not have the time to calculate the difference, I-”

“You don’t have to,” Ren cut in. His voice was low, his expression was grave. “A thousand times stronger, at least. I can feel it through the Force.”

“What? But the… how…” Hux babbled, turning back towards the increasingly unstable device. “It isn’t built to bear such a strain, I don’t… Ren!”

As soon as the words left his mouth felt Ren’s hand close around his arm. His entire body lurched backwards, nearly making him fall back. A phantom grip around his waist prevented him from losing his balance, though it also did its part in tugging him further back.

Ren was pulling him towards the exit, barely pausing in his stride to turn towards a resistant Hux.

“We need to leave!” he half-shouted, urgency taking its toll on patience.

Hux met Ren’s confident gaze with wide, dazed eyes. The next moment, pragmatism and survival instincts reasserted themselves. “Yes, yes of course,” he replied, nodding once. 

Satisfied, Ren turned back, standing before the barricaded exit. “How far must we go?” he asked as he reached a hand out, shoving the heavy metal sheet out of the way to open the street to them.

“I don’t know… I… Even assuming the explosion will be proportional, rather than exponential, I…” As he spoke, Hux’s mind went through multiple calculations, desperately trying to find some radius beyond which the blast would not reach them.  “And even if we found a coach, we…”

It was pointless. Even the kindest, grossest approximation placed the explosion radius at nearly one hundred kilometers.

“We can’t…” he heard himself say, feeling so very distant from himself. “We cannot outrun it.”

For a moment, Ren did not move. He stared at Hux with narrowed eyes, a thousand thoughts flashing through them too fast for Hux to grasp.

Ren’s eyes bore into his. “We need to get to the hangar. Now.”

Hux stared back, desperate to find another option; his days of running into the fray should have been behind him.

But there was no other option.

“You are right,” he whispered, his mind feeling sluggish once more. Though he recognized that that suicide mission was their only hope, he could not bring himself to go through with it.

And then Ren moved, grabbing Hux’s hand and breaking into a run. Hux yelped as he was forced to follow, barely managing to keep himself from stumbling as Ren dashed through the small streets with unnatural agility. Though Hux’s military training had kept him in relative good form, Ren was on another level entirely.

The Force, Hux realized. It had to be. How else would Ren be able to span such large distances with each stride? How else to explain how anyone they crossed promptly stepped out of their way, seemingly taking no notice of them even as they did?

As he watched, Hux felt so very distant from himself. He watched as Ren cleared the path for them, carried their steps as if winged sandals carried their feet, yet his mind was still scrambling over the time left to them. How long had it been? A minute, two? He wasn’t certain.

 _It is still a full kilometer to run. We will never make it,_ he thought. _We cannot run that fast!_

And yet, the streets kept rushing by them. The obstacles littering the road were flung out of the way, and through Ren’s guiding hand on his arm, Hux found himself making impossibly sharp turns without so much as a hitch in his step.

Soon, Hux saw their destination appear in front of them. Despite the blood pounding in his ears and the ominous red light that could be seen through the fissures in the wall, he felt hope creep back into his heart. 

He had never run so quickly before; he knew he was physically incapable of it. But such considerations did not matter with Ren, who darted and sprinted as if carried Winds themselves.

So fast was their pace that Hux nearly stumbled forward when Ren’s steps faltered. He looked back in alarm, half-expecting to find Ren wounded from the exertion. Instead, Ren was looking at the hangar with wide eyes that shone with fascination and only a hint of horror.

“Lords, Hux,” he whispered. “I can feel it…”

“Not now, Ren!” Hux yelled, fear at their dire situation preventing him from feeling any sort of relief that Ren was well.

Now it was him taking the lead, all but breaking down the hangar’s door as he rushed in. He had to shield his eyes when the harsh red light assaulted them.

When his vision cleared, he could see the device crackling, glowing, perched upon the small wooden pedestal he had placed it in – he hadn’t been able to abide the thought of letting it lay on the ground. It looked as unstable as Hux expected it to be, yet despite that he rushed towards it.

There was little time left, but he could do this; he could shut the entire operation down.

Hux was no fool; of course he had planned for a method of halting the device in case of emergencies. He certainly hadn’t expected matters to go _quite this poorly,_ but it didn’t matter now. All he could do was thank his own foresight, and get to work.

The crystal was vibrating with power, held in pace by the same metal rods that had been present on the activator in the forest. All he needed to do was to release the crystal from its hold, and without the gears in place the resonance would stop.

Hux winced as he reached for the release switch. Even through his gloves, it was as if an electric current was running through his hands, a thousand sharp knives in answer to the lightest touch. He had no doubt Ren was keeping most of it at bay, a fact he was immensely grateful for.

With gritted teeth, he pressed down. The metal bars holding the shard loosened their hold, falling farther back until there was nothing supporting the crystal anymore.

And yet it did not fall. The crystal continued to hover in midair, wholly unsupported by metal rods or Ren’s interference, continuing to exude energy that was quickly growing so potent Hux could feel it, thick as molasse in the air.

He did not understand.

A… a magnetic field? No, no, it was something far more powerful, far more potent, crackling with energy as the red light became solid before Hux’s very eyes.

It was breathtaking. Hux could do nothing to stop this.

“Ren… Ren it is too unstable, I cannot stop this… I cannot….”

They should have run. They might have been able to make it after all.

It was too late now.

The crystal grew brighter, hummed, and then blossomed with destruction.

Red filled his vision, and with it came a crushing wave of pressure. A wave of power that Hux could only describe as _cold heat_ , and for a moment Hux was proud that he had birthed it, this force far beyond what he could have even imagined.

This was hellfire, and Hux was about to burn.

He closed his eyes.

The air was ripped out of his lungs as he felt a force hit him square in the chest. It was all the warning he received before heat flared and he was flung back –

No, not flung. _Pulled._

His landing was harsh, that was a given. More surprising was the fact that he had felt it at all. The blast should have disintegrated him in seconds.

What was happening?

Tentatively, Hux opened his eyes, and lost his breath.

Ren stood in front of him, arms thrust in front of him, shaking under an invisible but palpable strain. His brows were furrowed, beads of sweat pearling on his forehead. His breaths were ragged, hoarse as he seemed to force the air into his lungs.

And his eyes were a terrible thing: wide, wild, filled with fear and determination so strong it tainted the air around him. And they were gold, the brown iris replaced by molten metal, and though Hux saw red circling around the edge he could not be certain it was not a trick of the light.

How he hoped so. Ren’s eyes spoke of such power, so breathtaking and so unnatural, fascinating and repulsive.

Hux barely managed to pull his gaze away from the sight to look upon another one, no less breathtaking, almost equally as terrifying. He could hear the destruction around them, could see as the edge of his vision bathed in red. He saw the walls of the hangar give out, bursting into pieces at the blast continued on its destructive path. He saw dust and ashes rise in thick clouds, melding grey to red, obscuring the worst of the damage from his view. In the distance, there were screams. So many screams.

And that was only half of the explosion, the part that had not been directed towards them.

The other half appeared to be frozen in place: beams of light not moving an inch from their position, like a five point star half-formed. The energy within them was crackling as it tried to escape an invisible hold.

Ren’s hold.

It was preposterous, Hux thought dumbly. The explosion was a thousand, a _million_ times stronger than anything known to man. It was unstoppable, Hux had designed it that way.

And Ren was holding it back it with his bare hands. Around him, the debris of the hangar were frozen in mid air; metal beams and walls frozen in their collapse, hanging in harmless stillness rather than crushing the two of them under their weight.

This was the power of Ren. This was the power of Force users.

Ren flexed his fingers; the energy crackled more furiously still, sparks flying as it rebelled under Ren’s power. Hux was certain the equilibrium would shatter any moment, that all that power would break free from the confines that – Lord – _one man_ was imposing upon it.

Ren grunted, clenching his jaw. The blast that had been hurling towards them began to recede. Slowly, painfully, the remaining branches of light began folding back into themselves, turning back into a pinpoint in the center of the crystal, which flared brightly one last time before submitting to gravity once more, a ludicrous small tingle echoing through the hangar when it hit the ground. 

Hux could only watch, stupor slowly giving way to something else entirely. It was not admiration at Ren’s power, nor even relief at the growing evidence that despite all rationality, he would survive this day.

Instead, Hux felt sick.

All these months, Hux had thought he was rising the top through his mastery of such energy, in his own way. He had thought his creation to be the absolute proof of his superiority, or at least the proof that he had no superior. He had thought himself becoming Ren’s equal, Snoke’s equal, as great a power as those who could manipulate the Force since birth.

And now, as Ren turned towards him, eyes flickering back to brown, his smile wide and relieved and proud, Hux realized he had never been anything more than a child who had been humored in his delusions. The bastard child, unfit for consideration, who could be tolerated, could be put to use, but never had a chance at all.

**~*~**

They both returned to Phasma’s estate a couple hours later, looking a mess. The ash and dust of the collapsing hangar clung to their clothes, which had been torn despite Ren’s protection. Shock and shame rendered Hux haggard, whilst Ren simply looked exhausted. It was only through Ren’s abilities that they went unnoticed, allowing them to discretely return and sequester themselves into their chamber to scrub failure away.

Such precaution seemed almost unnecessary. The destruction was great enough that any bystander would be blind to anything else. Even considering the relative distance that separated the Phasma family’s mansion from the more industrialized area of Coruscounty, word travelled almost as fast as the blinding red light had.

By the end of that same evening, Hux could hear the servants whispering about the terrible accident that had happened in the neighboring area. Some blamed the gunpowder factories, others an artillery training gone wrong; one even blamed improperly stored flour, to the dismay of others.

All agreed on the same: the blast had leveled the neighboring buildings to the ground, taking with it the workers and commoners that had the misfortune of being nearby. The shockwave had progressed even further, spanning Lord only knew how many kilometers. It had brought down the steeple of the area’s largest church, had caused the collapse of several military barracks. The casualties had yet to be numbered; all that was known was that there were no injured victims to be found, for death had been the only possible outcome to any who stood on the _Dreadstar’s_ path.

And that was with Ren partially containing its power.

In the evening, Hux’s ears were ringing still: failure was a white noise drowning out all else. He stared out the bedroom window, looking onto the black night sky and half-expecting it to burn a bright red at any moment.

This was all that he had expected, and more; but it was not meant to happen so soon. The entire point of this endeavor was to assess whether Hux could accurately assess the blast radius in relation to the size of the crystal. He should have been able to, his calculations had never been wrong before, he should have been able to control it…

An image of Ren bathed in red light flashed before his eyes, and with it a sharp stab of indefinable pain that made Hux’s breath hitch, his entire body tense as myriads of unpleasant feelings washed over him.

His nails were digging into his palms; it was of little help.

Ren groaned behind him, making Hux turn to face him. Ren was lying on the bed, only half undressed. He had collapsed onto it before he could change himself into nightly attires, and in his exhaustion was perfectly content in sleeping as he was.

“Hux,” he murmured, eyes only half open, his arm sluggishly reaching out to beckon Hux closer. “Will you not lie with me?”

Hux remained standing, staring at Ren. “You need rest. I’ll leave you to it.”

Slowly, Ren opened his eyes “You are very far away,” he said softly. He spoke as if there were worlds of meaning in his words, yet his gaze was so hazy Hux thought he might simply be delirious.

“I am right beside you,” he answered, yet even as he spoke them the words tasted of lie. The space between them, five steps at the very most, seemed as vast as the Saharan desert, and just as perilous to cross.

“Yes…” Ren sighed, with what seemed the last of his strength. His eyelids were fluttering shut, despite all his efforts to stop them. “Stay. You must, I could not abide…”

His breath left him before he could finish his sentence, and he did not seem capable of speaking once more. His eyes did more to make up for that weakness, both inviting and pleading as they never left Hux’s face.

After a long moment of stillness, Hux stepped forward, shrugging off his vest to let it fall on the floor. He climbed onto the bed, gingerly laying his head on the pillow as he lied onto his side, facing Ren whilst still leaving a sizeable space between them.

The smile that then formed on Ren’s face, faint but full of both joy and relief, made Hux feel ill. Nevertheless, he forced himself to remain lying until Ren’s eyes fluttered closed.

Sleep eluded him that night. Long after exhaustion had swept Ren away, leaving him lying still as a corpse and nearly as pale as he recuperated, Hux could only stare at the ceiling. The slow, deep breaths he heard beside him were not the comforting noises he had grown used to. Instead, they sounded like the labored breath of a monster hiding in the shadows, great and hulking and ready to swallow Hux hold if it deigned take notice of him.

He sat up, hoping to clear his mind but only succeeded in staring blankly into the darkness. In his mind’s eyes, it filled with crimson light, which turned into the red hair of his father, into shame, into helplessness and then once again into the pitch black of Ren’s hair.

He shook his head. He was delirious, he needed to rest.

He couldn’t.

Quietly, he got up, careful not to wake Ren as he exited the room. He walked around the halls barefooted, part of him relishing in the biting cold that nipped at his feet.

Mitaka was sitting on the steps, looking haggard. In the haze that had become of his mind, Hux hadn’t even had the strength to reprimand him for it.

He made his way down the stairs, only to stop halfway when he noticed a figure sitting on the bottom step. In the darkness, it took him a moment to recognize the man.

Mitaka was staring straight ahead, his uniform half-undone, deep shadow beneath his eyes that were particularly stark against his pale skin. He was still to the point of eeriness. When Hux slowly crept down the stairs, Mitaka barely moved his head towards him.

“Vears is dead,” he said, voice numb and quiet, yet still somehow seeming to resonate in the entire house. He looked up at Hux then, eyes wide but unseeing, shock and exhaustion taking their toll on his mind, depriving him of the reserve that was proper for a man of his condition.

In the morning, he would regret being so open with his employer.

Without another word, Hux walked past him, through the hall, until he reached the sitting room. It was dark, illuminated only by the faintest moonlight creeping through clouds and closed curtains. Yet it was enough for Hux, who knew exactly where to find what he sought. A liquor cabinet was easily spotted, after all, and he was well versed enough in liquor to pick out the flask of bourbon.

He poured himself a generous glass of Lord Phasma’s no doubt fine and expensive liquor, and sat himself in the nearest sofa. Staring straight ahead, he did not move until dawn.

**~*~**

Hux and Ren could not stay in Coruscounty for long after that. Hux needed the full use of his workshop to attempt to find where exactly his creation had gone so horribly wrong.

They needed to tell Snoke.

They had done so the evening of their return, both of them exhausted from their travels. Both of them standing to attention before Snoke, who remained sitting in the worn black leather couch of the _New Imperium_. He said not a word as Hux and Ren recounted the last week’s events, merely watching them with unblinking eyes.

Hux had kept his own back ramrod straight, telling himself it was no different from giving a field report in the manner he had as a young officer. It was not a pleasant comparison, but still better than that of a schoolboy standing before a pension’s headmaster, which is what the situation evoked more than anything else.

He burned at Snoke’s disapproving gaze, feeling very much like the child he had been all those years ago, weak and helpless and far too aware of those facts. Shame and wounded pride twisted in his guts, yet years of habit made him keep his composure. He had withstood judgement and punishment from many before, from men far stronger than the weak, impotent man who could give others but certainly couldn’t be bothered to -

Snoke’s sunken eyes shifted back towards Hux, piercing and cold. Hux was suddenly reminded that this was a Force user, and according to Ren an adept mind reader.

Now was not the time for such thoughts, righteous as they may seem at the moment. Hux buried them deep under mathematical equations and memories of the near explosion, and hopped that Snoke had not overheard.

“For the sake of Coruscounty, it is fortunate that you were there, Kylo,” the old man said when Ren had finished his account. He spoke slowly, tongue as serpentine as his demeanor. “Very fortunate indeed. Surprising as well, considering the task I had entrusted you with.”

Ren’s eyes were downcast, and did not raise when he was addressed. Hux stepped in. “Given the circumstances,” he answered. “I believe it was for the best.”

Snoke turned his head towards Hux, eyes narrowing. “Do you?” he asked, though his tone made it clear he did not care for Hux’s intervention.

Hux clenched his jaw. Despite his still mixed feelings, he could still recognize that he owed his life to Ren. However, he doubted Snoke would be receptive to such an argument. “Who knows what might have happened, had he not been there?” he said instead.

“The same thing that did happen, albeit on a much larger scale. That could have been useful,” Snoke said coldly.  “It would have caused chaos, distrust, fear, all which might have been of use. As it is, this will merely resemble a tragic incident, but one quickly dismissed by the next morning paper. It helps us not, and yet jeopardizes any chance we might have had at discretion.” He sighed. “But that is not only the issue at hand.”

Hux frowned. “My Lord…”

But Snoke ignored him, turning his gaze towards Ren once more. “You know what I refer to, Kylo,” he said, his low voice less of a whisper and more of a growl. “I see the paleness of your face, the misery in your thoughts. It speaks of a guilty heart. You know your fault already, though your pride keeps you from admitting it.”

“I merely…” Ren started. Hux was emboldened to find some heat in his protest. Alas, it died as soon as Snoke spoke again.

“I gave you my trust. You betrayed it.” Snoke shook his head. “Anything but those two facts are irrelevant. You sought to lie to me, disrespect me, after all I have given you. To do onto me what you have suffered by the hands of others, what I saved you from when you were in the depths of despair. Does that truly mean nothing to you?”

Ren looked down, shamefaced.

Hux hated it.

“I am disappointed, Kylo,” Snoke added. His tone was mournful, but he spoke the words with a deliberateness that spoke of relish.

Hux hated him as well.

Ren looked up, eyes rimmed with red. “Master, I…”

Snoke raised his hand. “Do not try to justify, just reflect. You broke my heart. I need to reflect on how you can earn forgiveness. As for you, Lord Hux, you may leave,” he added after a moment. His eyes never left Ren. “I will speak to my apprentice alone.”

Hux looked at Ren, who pointedly kept his gaze ahead. Ren’s fists were trembling from the force with which he was clenching them.

How Hux wished to kiss his temple, to put a hand on his shoulder, any gesture that might bring some comfort! But to do so in front of Snoke might do Ren more harm than good.

Hux left the room, hating Snoke all the more.

Outside, he paced. He direly wished to put his ear to the door, but it was too thick for such a trick to work. There was nothing to do but wait, and mull over the conversation just had and the one happening behind doors.

Snoke was not fond of him; of that Hux was aware, and had accepted long ago that their professional relationship would not be a cordial one. But Ren…

Hux worried.

He should have stayed in that room.

When Ren finally came through the door, he was silent, sullen. He looked startled to find Hux waiting for him there, almost at a lost as to what to say to him.

Wordlessly, Hux guided his lover through the _New Imperium’s_ corridors, unwilling to discuss anything whilst still being in the same building as Snoke. It was a superstitious urge, but one Hux was disinclined to fight.

“What did he say?” he asked once they were on the street.

“It does not concern you,” Ren answered tonelessly. He would not meet Hux’s eyes. 

“I see,” Hux said slowly. He so wished to press the issue, but it seemed unwise. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, forcing some casualness into his voice as he gave Ren a tentative smile. “Well, this has been a rather emotional couple of days. Shall we return to my home? Perhaps there will be some comfort to be had for us there.”

The insinuation had little effect on his lover, who barely seemed to have heard him at instead. He merely stared at the ground, eyes vague as he listened to whatever miserable thought captured his mind.

“He is so disappointed in me…” Ren murmured, sounding so terribly lost.

Hux flinched.  “I am certain it will pass.”

“No, no it’s never been like this… I should never have disobeyed him, I…”

“I might have died, had you not been there. There was no guarantee I would have made it out on time.” Hux hesitated. “Are you sorry you were there?”

“No, I… No,” Ren replied. Hux shoulder sagged in relief, for Ren sounded far more certain than Hux’s fears would have allowed him to believe. “I only wish…”

His voice died out as he struggled with his own thoughts. Hux said nothing, hoping that patience would allow Ren to speak what was so obviously torturing him.

It was a struggle not to hold his breath as he waited, for the longer Ren remained silent, the more dread pooled in the pit of Hux’s stomach.

Just what had Snoke said to him?

 “I must go,” Ren blurted out suddenly, stunning Hux so much it took him far too long to respond.

“What, no… Ren!”

But Ren did not listen. He turned on his heels and left then, leaving Hux with nothing but stunned hurt and the feeling of Ren’s coat slipping through his fingers as he had tried in vain to stop him.

**~*~**

Five days later, and Ren had given no sign of life.

Hux had intended to keep his distance, both in consideration for Ren’s obvious wishes and for the sake of his own pride. He had resolved to neither plead nor beg, despite how off putting – _distressing_ – Ren’s sudden coldness and indifference was.

That resolve had not lasted long. His frustration only grew with each passing day, worsening when his efforts proved meaningless. His patience had gone on unrewarded. His missives remained unanswered.

He hadn’t stooped so low as to announce himself in Ren’s home, demanding answers; however, that option was growing more and more appealing by the minute.

It made for a miserable time, as Ren’s rejection melded in perfect cruelty with the memory of his failure, the later was made worse by its magnitude and its inexplicableness. Hux had gone over his calculations several times over, had retraced his steps with unwavering meticulousness, going through each page of the journal in which he had detailed his daily progress – trying to find the mistake that had nearly proved fatal.

There were none. None that he could see.

So why had that debacle happened at all?

Three days after his return to London, he had met with Phasma, the sole person he might be able to share some of his concerns with. Even then, he had carefully edited his tale, making only the vaguest references to the fate that had almost befallen Mitaka. That sort of detail could harbor nothing good, and Hux doubted that the public tea house they found themselves in would shield him from her wrath.

Phasma had proven a sympathetic ear, quietly listening as she sipped her tea. However, she could not give him the answers he sought, nor soothe his anxieties in any meaningful way.

“Well, he could simply be shaken by recent events. To be honest, there is little insight I could give that you would not have already. I imagine you were disappointed not to see him during Tuesday’s meeting, but-”

“Meeting?” Hux asked, more harshly than he should have. “What meeting?

Phasma raised her eyebrows. “At the _New Imperium_. It was held two nights ago, according to my little troopers. Were you not there?”

Hux felt his blood freeze as Phasma’s words settled in his mind, and with it a dozen of implications, each one as dire as the next.

“I was not,” he replied, his own voice sounding very distant to his own ears. He stood up. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Hux? Hux!”

It was rude to leave so abruptly; humiliating to be called after in front of so many people.

Hux did not care. Phasma’s words had shaken him out of the despondent misery that he had let himself sink into, that had made him blind and deaf to the happenings around him.

He should have known about the meeting at the _New Imperium_. Even though it had obviously been kept from him, he should have been alert enough to spot the deception. Now, the deed was done, and he was two steps behind.

But behind what?

He hailed a coach on the street, barking out his home address before shutting the door and pulling the curtains. He needed to cut himself off from the noise of the street as much as possible.

He needed to _think_.

Taking a deep breath, Hux closed his eyes. A frantic mind brought no solutions, and though his alarm threatened to grow deafening, he needed to move past it. He needed to go over every fact at his disposal.

A meeting in the New Imperium, hidden from him. The deduction was easy enough: he was being cut out from the equation. Most of his work was done; some might feel they could dispose of him. Fortunately, Hux still held his weapons in his position. It gave him more than enough leverage.

The near debacle back in Coruscounty. Hux still did not know what had happened, but it might have cost him his life. He knew he was not at fault. Therefore, someone else was to blame.

There could be only one man behind this.

Hux’s fingernails dug into his palms.

Snoke’s intrusion in his home. Those spidery hands tinkering with Hux’s creation.

Ren, unable to stop it, trying and failing to keep the destruction at bay, fighting a force greater than himself.

The evidence was clear.

Snoke was behind this. Snoke wanted him dead.

Hux opened his eyes.

He had known Snoke had not been fond of him, but he had believed himself to hold some value in the old man’s eyes. He had thought that his own brilliance and Snoke’s practicality would have allowed for a tense but functional relationship between two men with the same goals. Perhaps, down the line, he had even imagined doing away with Snoke entirely, or waiting for old age to take its final tole.

He had been a fool. He had known from the start that Snoke held little interest in the military save that it was a group of powerful people he could manipulate to his own advantage. He should never have let himself forget it. He had bought into the flattery that came with the position of power, and in doing so had given in to the same weakness that he had sneered at during that first meeting all those months ago.

Of course Hux would be replaceable in Snoke’s eyes, especially once his work was done! He did not know whether it was his bond with Ren that had put the death warrant upon his head, or if Snoke had always had the intention of disposing of him. It hardly mattered in the end. Hux’s life was at stake, and he would react accordingly.

His weapons would have to be hidden away, first and foremost - immediately, in fact, as Hux had no notion of how long it would be until Snoke struck again. Hux would dismantle all the pieces and destroy his calculations – he knew them all by heart now. Once that was done, it would give him both leverage and time. 

Then he would need to find Ren, and reveal the plot in the making. Hux had to assume that Ren was unaware: Snoke had not included him in the secretive meeting at the _New Imperium._ Most likely he intended to have Hux disposed of, then lie to Ren about the cause of his lover’s demise.

Would Ren believe him? Such faith he had in Snoke, Hux did not know how to shake it. The evidence was on his side, but that was not reassurance enough. Even when confronted with proof, there was no telling how Ren might react. In the face of his devotion, would he even care…?

But no. Ren would not take kindly to being lied to. His anger at a deceit had been what had drawn him to Snoke in the first place, and though Hux did not know the details, he could still remember the pain and bitterness with which Ren alluded to the past.

If Ren were to learn of Snoke’s intent, then perhaps he would turn against him. At the very least, he would waver, and perhaps Hux’s talents of persuasion could do the rest. Whatever the case, Hux needed the power of the Force to fight Snoke.

Hux still couldn’t shake the newly grown unease whenever he thought of Ren’s abilities, but now they were his only chance at salvation. Anything else was irrelevant. He needed Ren at his side. The very notion of having Ren as his enemy, to have all that power focused against him… Hux would be destroyed in minutes, crushed like an ant under a boot…

But no, it would not come to that. Ren cared for him.

Hux believed that, if nothing else.

The plan shaping itself within his mind was both weapon and shield, allowing him to strike back whilst making him feel more secure even in this precarious situation. When he stepped out of the coach he did not feel nearly as shaken as when he had first entered, and it was with renewed determination that he entered his home to enact his battle plan.

“Mitaka, I have need of you!” he called out. He did not bother shedding his coat; he would not be staying long.

His valet did not rush to the door. Hux frowned. Even when occupied, his valet made a habit of dropping all of his tasks to attend to his Lord upon his return. Of all the times he should fail to do so…

Frowning, Hux began stalking inside the house. He would simply begin without him. “When you have a moment,” he called out in angry sarcasm, “do feel free to join me. I…”

His voice faltered when he reached the workroom door.

Mitaka was beside door, standing ramrod straight in a military posture. His stare was unwavering, aimed at the bare wall in front of him. He made no note of Hux’s presence. He was breathing deeply, slowly, like a catatonic man.

Hux rushed forward, grabbing him by the shoulders. “Mitaka!”

His valet turned towards him slowly, eyes slightly vacant. Their focused sharpened slowly as they gazed upon Hux, though none of the Lord’s calls or shakes could seem to hasten the process.

Then, as if a spell was broken, Mitaka collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath as he tried to contain his tears.  “My Lord! I am so sorry, I-”

“What happened?!”

“He… I am so sorry my Lord. I let him in, I know not why. I…”

“Who? Who came here?!” Hux demanded, though he already knew the answer.

With a shaking voice and desperate expression, Mitaka confirmed his suspicion. “He introduced himself as Snoke,” he answered, drawing a deep breath as he tried to keep himself from devolving into hysterics. “And there were four other men. He told me to let him in and I… He went into your workroom, I-”

Mitaka cut himself off with a choked sob. It did not matter much; Hux had heard enough.

“Show me.”

In normal circumstances, being given a task tended to bolster Mitaka; this time, it only made him look more distraught. “I cannot,” he said fearfully. “He told me not to go inside, and God save me, I cannot will myself to step a foot through the door. I am so sorry my Lord, I-”

Hux stopped listening.

He went straight through the door, looking for the small crates in which he had carefully stored his creations.

He was devastated, but not surprised to find them wide open, and empty.

Gone. All five of devices, taken away, and with it what leverage he had.

Dammit all to hell! Just how far behind was he?! How much time had he wasted in lament, whilst others plotted his demise?

He turned towards Mitaka.

“How many have entered?”

“Four men, my Lord…”

“And did all of them leave?” Hux cut him off.

“I… Yes.”

“No assassin waiting in the bedroom then,”Hux muttered. He should have thought of it as soon as he had entered his home; it was little relief that his oversight hadn’t cost him. “Did Snoke say anything?”

“I… he…” Mitaka stammered once more, and though his shock might be understandable, it was also a hindrance.

“Out with it, man!”

“He… He said something about Ren, that he would learn consequences and…. Something, I do not know. I am sorry, my Lord. He ordered me not to interfere, and so I could not approach him. I could not…”

Hux’s blood turned cold.

He knew what sort of consequences crossing Snoke might entail. And Snoke had been cross with Ren, so very angry, despite Ren being his apprentice for all these years; perhaps even more so because of it.

If Ren had been kept out of Snoke’s plans, if Snoke had indeed been too outraged by his apprentice’s disobedience to tolerate….

Snoke found Hux to be expendable; what proof had Hux that he did not feel the same way about Ren?

The question asserted itself within Hux’s mind, along with rising horror.

He did not know. Consequently, he could not help but assume the worst.

“Go to Phasma,” he heard himself stay, mind in shambles as he tried to come up with a new plan. “Stay with her. I will send a telegram with further instructions.”

Mitaka nodded, but did not look convinced. “My Lord… how long should I wait..?”

“I will be fine,” Hux snapped. “Just do as I say.”

Mitaka nodded hurriedly, but Hux payed him little mind.

Time was of the essence.

A quick detour to his study allowed him to retrieve his pistol, seldom used but well-maintained, and then he was back on the street, hailing another coach, this time to take him to Ren’s home.

Snoke’s words had been ominous enough, but they were made worse by the memory of Ren’s utter devastation after his conversation with Snoke. Hux could only imagine what had been said between the two, but it had left Ren more shaken than Hux had ever seen.

Hux’s heart clenched at the memory, Ren’s beautiful face marred by such shock, terror, and panic, and oh, what had made his bold, defiant Ren cower so? Had he feared for his life, even a little? Had the possibility of his death by his master’s hands crossed his mind, even as his loyalty would not let him consider it in full?

It certainly had crossed Hux’s. And though the thought itself did not seem quite right, though a small part of Hux’s mind insisted that he had missed _something,_ one the notion had taken hold it refused to release its grip.

Ren might be in danger, and he may not know it yet. Anything else was irrelevant.

And Hux needed to find him. Now.

Somehow, that seemed to be the sole solution to everything. As long as he was by Ren’s side, then all would be well, by the sheer magic that Ren brought to the Universe that had nothing to do with the Force. Once he knew Ren was safe, then Hux would have little else to fear. ( _Except the power within him, absolute and sickening, and the knowledge of Hux’s helplessness as he could only_ watch -)

No, no, he needed… He needed to find Ren. He clung to that idea with a feverish fervor, repeating it as a mantra as he willed the driver to push his horses faster.

When the coach finally reached its destination, he rushed out as quickly as he was able.

His heart froze when he came to Ren’s porch.

The door had been left ajar.

Taking a deep breath, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the pistol. With his firmly in hand, he creeped towards the front door, gently pushing it open before slipping inside. He barely dared to breath as he took in his surroundings, alert for any sign of a fight or of Ren’s presence.

His efforts evaporated in a moment when he heard a noise coming from the sitting room. It was too muted, too short to know whether it had been a moan, or a groan of pain, or something else.

In doubt, Hux rushed to it.

He took full measure of his mistake one second too late.

“Not one move further, Hux.”

Though the war had made him somewhat accustomed to being shot at, he had never been held at a gunpoint before. It was a decidedly insulting experience, especially when it was largely the fault of Hux’s own poor judgement.

Straightening his back, Hux met the gaze of the sole person in the room; it was a man Hux had seen once or twice at the _New Imperium_ , though he had never bothered to learn his name. He regretted it now, as there was something particularly undignified in the prospect of being killed by an anonymous man. Especially one as visibly mediocre as this one: the self-satisfied smirk he bore spoke of a man who had little cause for pride throughout his life, and the manner with which he held his pistol screamed of inexperience.

Not that it mattered at this distance.

“And who might you be?” Hux asked, then scoffed. “Never mind, it is of no consequence.”

Predictably, the man in front of him bristled at the insult. He clenched his weapon tighter, cocking it to the side as if it somehow made it more threatening than it already was.

“Lord Snoke said you might be here,” his assailant spat out. “As usual, his foresight is a thing of awe. My colleagues left after a day camping here, but I proved more patient.”

Hux hissed between his teeth, cursing himself for falling in so obvious a trap. He had come here out of instinct and fear, had done exactly as Snoke expected he would. It was humiliating. “Where is Ren?”

The other man sneered. “Why should I tell you?”

The taunt was meant to add insult to injury, but Hux had to keep himself from smiling in victory. It was all the answer he needed. Had Ren been killed, the man would have certainly gloated; he was too unsubtle for anything else.

“What does Snoke want?” he asked, keeping his voice toneless as he took two steps around the couch, under the guise of using it as an obstacle between him and his assailant. .

The other man let him, pistol still aimed right at Hux’s chest. The idiot; if he had any sense, he would shoot Hux where he stood; he would certainly not let Hux angle his body to the side, hiding his dominant arm as he did so.

“It is of no concern to you, traitor,” his opponent spat out. His finger twitched over the trigger. “Nothing is anymore.”

Hux flung his arm out and fired a bullet.

He was a no great marksman: without the time to take proper aim, his shot had missed its target. The bullet flew past the man’s shoulder, lodging itself in the wall without so much as grazing him.

Nevertheless, his opponent had dodged to the left out of reflex, and that gave Hux an opportunity. He rushed forward, roughly shoving the other man whilst he was still of balance. In their grapple, Hux had the advantage, but his opponent fought back with enough strength to grab Hux’s arm as he fell, twisting it against the joint as he pulled at it with his entire weight. Hux cried out in pain, then in rage as his hand spasmed and let his pistol slip from its grip.

One bullet burst out as it hit the ground. Fortunately, it lodged itself in the door frame rather than in Hux’s skull.

Damn, Hux thought, before turning back and running out the front door.

Distantly, he knew he must appear a mad man, running so shamelessly in public. It was of no concern right now, not when Hux had heard his assailant pick himself up to follow after him. He dared not look back to. Perhaps his would-be-assassin had injured himself in the fall, perhaps he would not be able to keep up with Hux’s pace. Perhaps he would not dare shoot at Hux in such a public setting. Hux did not wait to find out: he ran.

Norfolk Terrace was not far from Paddington, and more importantly, the newly constructed Underground station - Hux’s salvation.

When he had discussed the matter with Ren all those months ago, he had been quite sincere: Hux had hated the very notion of the Underground. It was a claustrophobic place, filled with swarming mass of people, like a migration of insects – even months after the opening, when the novelty had yet to die.

Consequently, there would be no better place to hide, and no greater chance of escape.

He pushed through the crowd, receiving some scandalized muttering as he cut in front of them.

“Stop! Thief!” he heard from behind him. He recognized his assailant’s voice. “That man is a thief! The clothes and finery on him are stolen! Stop him!”

Hux cursed. Perhaps the man was not quite an idiot after all.

Fortunately, crowd inertia worked in his favor. No one rushed to stop him; most looked confused, eyeing him with distrust but visibly not fully convinced that a man of his bearing and appearance could be a thief. Yet behind him he could still here his pursuer crying out for his capture, attempting to use the crowd that blocked his way.

Hux needed to act, and quickly.

A few meters away was a man who seemed oblivious to the drama. His coat was of fine material, but not quite tailored, his boots were worn with use. It was obvious that there was some wealth to him, but not enough to mark him as an upper-class gentleman.

Perfect.

“There is he is!” he cried out, pointing at the hapless bystander. “After him!”

He imbued his voice with all the authority he possessed, calling upon the demeanor he had so often held at the front. It did not fail him – the crowd surrounding him obeyed, far more readily than they had his pursuer.

Hux smirked; some men were simply natural leaders.

Whilst the crowd went to work behind him, cornering a confused and growingly frantic man, Hux continued to walk towards the wagon, keeping his steps calm and measured despite his urge to dart for safety. No one stopped him, even when he stepped into the compartment. Most of the masse’s attention was on the commotion behind him.

Hux let out a breathy laugh as the Underground began its motion.

It was not a long travel to their destination. However, it gave him enough time to catch his breath, along with the reassurance that he had regained some ground on Snoke’s men. Though his use of the Underground telegraphed his landing point – as of now, Farringdon Street was the only operational station – by the time Snoke’s men were made aware of the development, he would be long gone.

When he exited the Underground, he began walking, with no clear destination in mind save away from his usual haunts.

He needed to get as far away from Farringdon Street as possible. However, he could not leave the city, not with nothing but the clothes on his back. The sole option left to him was to find a place to hide within London itself.

For nearly an hour he wandered in London’s street, vaguely keeping to the East whilst trying to avoid any recognizable pattern. He was unfamiliar with these streets, which proved to be both a blessing and a curse. One on hand, an unfamiliar place was filled with people who were not familiar with him, and thus would not be able to denounce him should anyone come asking.

On the other hand, his steps brought him further and further into more disreputable parts of town, not quite the slums but still far below what Hux was accustomed to. Though the Underground had been finished for a few months now, Farringdon Road was still a construction site more than anything else. The adjacent roads fared little better, and the more Hux ventured the more he was reminded of the side road he and Ren had almost been mugged in. He periodically checked for his wallet as he walked; he could not afford to have it stolen.

Bitterly, he wished that Ren were with him. He would have provided protection as well a guidance. And a balm to soothe the fear Hux tried so very hard to keep at bay.

Lords, he needed to find him!

When the sun began to set he resolved to stay the night in an anonymous inn. It would be safer than lingering in the streets past dark, he reasoned, and far easier to think of a plan when shelter and food are provided.

As soon as the room was paid for, Hux locked himself inside, letting himself fall on the sole wooden chair that had been provided. As soon as he was sitting, exhaustion washed over him, the day’s event finally taking their toll. But though he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the bed to regain his strength, he couldn’t allow himself to just yet.

His current situation was a dire one. He had enough money in his wallet to last for a day and a half, but money could only take him so far. Especially now, when he had nothing else to his person.

His fingers dug into his palm at the thought. He was all but homeless now, as he had no doubt an assassin or two would be waiting for him should he ever decide to return to his own house. Snoke had stolen the weapons he had created, meaning he had no leverage to bargain with. More direly still, there was nothing to stop Snoke from executing their plan without him.

With Coruscounty’s accident – no _assassination attempt -_ still fresh in his mind, Hux could see all too clearly how such events would play out: five cities would be destroyed, Snoke and his puppet military would rise to the top, whilst Hux would either die in the explosion, die at the hands of the new government, or spend the rest of his existence as a fugitive.

Hux’s steps faltered at that.

The destruction that his small test run had wrought flashed through his mind. One could never truly conceptualize such destruction unless one saw it with their very own eyes. Hux had thought himself immune to any sort of weak-hearted reaction, having seen the battlefield many times before. But the battlefield was a place made of death and bloody injury – to see such things in a time of peace, in a setting that was not built for such things, was jarring. 

Hux knew it would be so. He had designed it that way, and considered it a fair price to pay for the new world order he would be a part of.

He had never imagined himself as part of the casualties. The very notion was… disconcerting. But Snoke had made it clear that Hux was not meant to survive his rise to power.

It wouldn’t be just himself, of course, Hux reflected. How easily Mitaka might have been at those barracks, and killed in the cross-fire. How easily he might still be caught in Snoke’s attack, should it come to fruit. Hux had no way of preventing it for certain; his powerlessness in the face of Snoke’s abilities had already cost the life of a man who had been neither a threat to Hux’s plans nor part of any group Hux sought to bring down.

He had quite liked Vears, for all the roughness of his character. Hux had only met him briefly, but Vears certainly would have had his place in Hux’s new world order.

But no, no he wouldn’t have. It would have been Snoke’s world, and Hux was a fool to have ever believed otherwise. For all the praise and responsibility Snoke had entrusted him with, Hux had _known_ that Snoke thought little of him, had little regard for anyone save perhaps Ren – and even then, how vile the sight of the two of them together had been!

Snoke’s world held Snoke at the center, Ren at his heel - if he was allowed to live at all, and the rest could burn away if need be.

Hux took a deep breath.

He knew collateral damage was inevitable, but it had always been an anonymous mass of inconsequential people. Now the crowd took on the faces of Vear, of Mitaka, of Hux. More sharply defined than ever, and as such, Hux felt his perspective shift.

The _Dreadstar_ was a technical wonder, but it was also… a waste, at the very least. There were other words that came to mind, harsher, blunter words, but Hux mentally shunned them. It did not stop the shame from welling inside him.

He had been… short-sighted in the conceptualization of his weapon. And now, his lack of vision would result in Snoke rising to power, unchallenged.

He could not allow it to happen.

The first order of business was to gather his allies, few as they were. Mitaka should already be by Phasma’s side by now, which certainly made matters easier when it came to Mitaka’s protection. Hux was fairly certain he could count on Phasma’s affection for his valet in that regard.

The true question was, could the friendship she felt for him secure her as an ally, or would her loyalty still be towards the military?

Hux pursed his lips. He wished to believe she would side with him, but he could not make assumptions, not now. How to find out?

Mitaka, his mind supplied. If there was any man whose loyalty Hux was assured of, it was Mitaka, who was already in Phasma’s estate, who had her ear, perhaps even her heart. If there was anyone who could ascertain her allegiances, perhaps even sway her, it would be him. He had shown enough spine and discretion for it.

He would send a courier as soon as possible, Hux resolved. He would claim his message to be mere housekeeping instructions for his servant, a weak deceit meant only to deceive any who would be made to transfer the message to him. Or perhaps he would write it in military code – there was a chance that Phasma would be familiar with it, but then again, what were the odds that the Lady of the House would be shown a note intended for a valet?

Unless Mitaka was in her presence when he received it…

He could claim it had to do with his dying father. Mitaka’s sense

Hux nodded once. That seemed his best recourse for now. With luck, Phasma would prove an ally, and were he able to find Ren…

Hux closed his eyes, clenching his teeth at the sudden tightening in his chest, which was more akin to an old wound flaring up at the mention of Ren’s absence. Hux’s pride had prevented him from reaching out to him sooner, and now they might both pay a terrible price for it.

Try as he might, Hux could not conjure up a way of contacting Ren. Or at least, none that would work. He did not know where his lover was, did not know whom he might ask to find out.

It occurred to Hux then that he knew no other companion to Ren save himself and Snoke. Not even Phasma – if she were indeed inclined to side with him at all: she was an acquaintance, a well-regarded one, but never seen outside of Hux’s presence.

Who could Ren turn to, in his hour of need?

None but Hux. And Hux would not fail.

And if his own methods would not succeed, then perhaps he would resort to using Ren’s. The Force was still an obscure tool to him, but even an unfamiliar tool could be used through perseverance. He had not talent for the mystique or the spiritual, but for Ren he might try.

Hux tried to reason logically. If he could read minds and hear dreams, then perhaps he might sense Hux’s distress, his need. Perhaps he might tell Hux where to find him, or – Hux’s heart faltered at the thought – give some sign that he was still alive. Ren had also mentioned meditation more than a few times, perhaps Hux might try to emulate what Ren had described to him?

As he tried to find the best approach, he was distracted by noises coming from outside the room. There were footsteps in the hallway. Muffled voices that could be heard through the wall.

And then Hux’s door was brought down, crashing to the floor with a deafening bang.

Hux sprung to his feet in an instant. Instinctively, he reached for his pistol, then cursed when he remembered he had lost it back in Ren’s home. There was no time to look for a makeshift weapon. The best he could hope for would be to slip by whatever assailant had arrived – for there was no doubt they were assailants, not with their violent method of entrance - perhaps incapacitate one if he were fast enough. He was already calculating his escape route when Snoke’s men entered the room. There were three of them, two of which he recognized as low level officers back at the Imperium, and -

Oh.

Hux felt his lungs empty themselves, as if he had been punched in his stomach. Or rather, it was more akin to the dying men on the battlefield, when the air was forced out of their lungs in their last gasp, as if they were surprised their death had come so soon.

But why should Hux be surprised? Of course it would happen this way.

Hux had so often been consumed by jealousy at arriving second in his lover’s eyes; what was this if not the greatest demonstration of that truth?

Ren stood before him, pocketing his gyroscope away now that the tool had served its use. He was dressed in black, looking both like a grim reaper and a man in mourning. It was a cruel sight, though not as much as his face, which had been drained of all the emotions that had made him so alive and beloved.

It was the expressionless mask once more, the one Hux had so often sneered at when he had not known Ren. How fitting, when the Ren before him was a stranger.

“Truly, Hux,” his lover – once lover – murmured. “You are a fine strategist, but a terrible survivalist. Running for your life, and you still you insist on sleeping in an inn with a bed. Could you not bear discomfort for one night?”

“I did not expect to be found so easily,” Hux replied tonelessly. “This establishment is of lower standards than what I usually demand.”

“Such a spoiled Lord you are.” Ren glanced at Hux’s coat, which had been carefully lain on top of the bed. “You did not even dispose of your coat. Do you not know how a man of wealth stands out in these parts?”

Hux could imagine this conversation so differently. The same words, only Ren’s voice would speak in a fond tease. Hux reply would be sharp-tongued, but his eyes would betray his amusement. Ren would reach out and pull Hux into his arm, kissing him on the lips to sooth Hux’s mock hurt.

Instead, they were both merely staring at each other. Perhaps Ren was merely looking upon his prey. Hux, for his part, forced himself to look unto the man sent to kill him, the only way he could make himself believe what he should have known all along. 

This was how thoroughly Ren had ruined him: in all his time fleeing from this peril, all this time fleeing Snoke and his enforcers, he had never for a moment thought that Ren might be among them.

And even now, with the evidence of Ren’s betrayal, the undoubtful proof that Hux’s dalliance in sentiment and trust had proven both worthless and foolish, Hux could not summon any sort of fury, only heartbreak, bone piercing and soul deep.

“Ren…” he started, before snapping his mouth shut.

He would not debase himself. Not in front of these men.

“He asked this of me,” Ren murmured.

It was not an apology; it might have been regret.

Ren began walking forward, pulling out a sharp looking dagger from his long coat. Hux watched him do so, thought of all the self-defense methods he had learned back at the Academy; then he let them fade away, too tired to hold onto them and the fool’s hope they brought.

In the face of a predator, strong beast will fight for survival, whilst the weak will go limp in defeat and await their death.

Here, at the end of his life, Hux proved that he had never been anything more than a small animal.

Ren was close, so very close now, and despite everything Hux still wished to bury himself into his arms, a primal part within him insisting that that was were safety lied despite all the evidence to the contrary.

Weak, weak, stupid and foolish, why had he ever let himself forget... Let himself  _want..._

He was weeping. Fat, silent tears rolling down his face, and though he was ashamed of them he did not attempt to hide them. Ren reached up with his hand, and Hux closed his eyes. Foolishly, he thought Ren might want to wipe his tears away.

Instead, Ren placed his hand against Hux’s temple, and leaned closer still.

“Let me in?” he whispered, right next to Hux’s ear.

Eyes still shut, Hux gave a shaky nod.

Let Ren have this. Let Ren have Hux in full, and know that Hux had loved him ever so dearly, even when it had proven to be such a fatal mistake. Let him know that despite the heartbreak and the betrayal, Hux could not make himself stop. And let Ren try to make sense of it all.

 _Let him suffer for it,_ Hux thought bitterly.

Then he felt a sharp pain in his side, and darkness claimed him whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are love! :D Art in the next chapter!
> 
> *runs away*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I will stop apologizing for the late updates, it is getting extremely redundant...
> 
> ART IN THIS CHAPTER!!! Once again, [GallifreyanOmnishambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/works) produced a stunning art piece!!! You can find their tumblr [here](https://creepycreepyspacewizard.tumblr.com/)  
> Special thanks to [mousiesshi](http://mousiesshi.tumblr.com//) , who stuck with me even long after they would have been in their right to call it quits!

Consciousness came as something of a surprise. A pleasant one at first, baring the sharp sting in his side; a muted version of the pain that had thrust him into unconsciousness to begin with.

But then pain tipped straight into memory, which in turn brought echoes of betrayal and anguish and something that wasn’t quite terror but disturbingly close. It all bore down upon Hux, pressing upon his lungs like a thousand pounds of lead, and he could not escape from it. His limbs were still too weak to thrash, his eyelids too heavy to snap open, and none of it would have been of any help at all when his own mind was the source of his torment. More and more, Hux wished for oblivion, which had certainly been kinder to him than reality ever had.

Nevertheless, through discomfort, anguish, and the sound of someone rummaging in a drawer, Armitage Hux was brought back into the world.

“Who…,” he managed to croak out, before his voice gave out. He coughed, then winced as the pain in his side flared up with each tremor in his chest.

Painstakingly, he managed to open his eyes to thin slits, wincing as the light hit them for the first time in – well, he hardly knew how long it had been. Nor where he was, or even how he had gotten here.

All that he knew is that he was, against all odds, very much alive.

When his vision cleared, he took in his surroundings with a suspicious gaze, starting with the bed he lay in. He recognized neither the sheets nor the frame, cream-colored and light brown unlike his own red silk and dark oak at home. The walls and furniture were in the same veins of gentle colors and materials, light teal colored walls upon which an abstract motif was rendered in a different shade of blue.

There was a butler in the corner, a thin, bald man with golden brown skin, his black uniform a sharp contrast to the muted colors surrounding him.

« Ah, you are awake! »

Hux pulled himself to a sitting position, hissing through his teeth at the strain. The butler rushed towards him, babbling some inane drivel about caution; Hux bated his hands away when they tried to steady him.

“Who are you ?” he demanded, eyes narrowing into a glare as he all but pushed the man away. He realized a second later that he most likely did not look too intimidating, being confined in bed and wearing sleeping clothes.

Fortunately, the butler seemed the easily cowered sort, though that fear was quickly replaced by flustered disapproval. “How rude!” the stuffy man protested, righteous indignation made ridiculous by a high-pitched voice and a thick Italian accent. “Here I was making certain your room was being upkept to proper standards. I tend to trust the staff, but it is very tempting to slack at one’s duties when the sole witness is unconscious in bed, and-”

“I will not repeat myself,” Hux cut him off, grabbing the irritant by the lapels of his jacket and pulling him down. “Who. Are. You?”

Finally, fear reasserted itself in the other man’s eyes. “My name is Mr.Treepio,” he squeeked. “Please unhand me.”

Reluctantly, Hux complied. He took no small level of satisfaction in the nervous manner with which the butler adjusted his vest.

“Where am I?”

“Naboo Gardens,” Treepio answered after a moment’s hesitation. “It is four o’clock in the afternoon, if that is you next question.

It had been, but that petty consideration was blown away but that newfound information.

He was in _Naboo Gardens._

“And pray tell,” he said slowly, speaking each word slowly to give his own mind time to process them, “why am I in the Queen’s private abode?”

“Because her Majesty saw fit to host you,” Treepio answered. The mention of his employer seemed to embolden him, as he lifted his chin and visibly cloaked himself with pride. “If you will excuse me, I will inform her that you are awake.”

Hux sneered, making a move to stop him. “Now wait here a – ah!”

That wretched wound once against flared up, cutting him off and allowing the butler to slip out of the door. With a grunt, he let himself fall back, multiple pillows cushioning his fall.

What in hell’s name was going on? Why was here?!

His current situation was completely at odds with his last memories. He distinctly remembered hiding away in a filthy establishment, being hunted and stalked until finally Ren cornered him –

Ren….

Throat tight, Hux furiously rubbed at his eyes. He was not weeping; fury and betrayal were simply manifesting in an unseemly matter.

Ren had not killed him, obviously, so it was not unreasonable to believe that he had been the one to bring him here. It did not explain how he did it, or even why he chose this place out of any other.

Why Ren had seen fit to torment him at all.

The door opened once more. Hux sat up, uncaring of the pain such a sudden movement caused, and turned to look at the woman who had just entered the room.

He had been warned she was coming. It was a shock to see her nonetheless.

Queen Padme Amidala looked very much like she did in her portraits: a face that held a round gentleness to it despite the wrinkles and frailty that came with age. She still bore the same outfits she had all her life, though there was none of the outdated white face and red cheeks she often bore in public.

The true difference, however, came from the look in her eyes. Begrudging as he was be to admit it, Hux had to concede that they had always held depths of benevolence.

There was not an ounce of it in the gaze directed towards him.

“Lord Hux,” she greeted, voice as flat as you stare. “I understand you have a vested interest in my demise.”

Hux inclined his head. “Your Majesty.” In his current position, he could not afford to be nearly as hostile as she was; it didn’t keep the sardonic edge out of his voice. “I thank you for your hospitality.”

“You do not deserve it.”

Hux raised an eyebrow, more at her bluntness than at the sentiment. “Then why give it at all?”

“Kylo Ren,” she said, speaking the name with no small amount of distaste, “has requested it of me.”

“That hardly answers my question.”

“He is my grandson.”

Hux paused.

Queen Amidala’s face was as impassive as ever, though there was a trace of smugness at seeing him caught so off guard. What Hux could not see within her features was deceit, and he knew then with the peculiar brand of certainty that only came with the most unbelievable statements that he would find none. She had spoken the truth.

Ren was Queen Padme Amidala’s grandson.

There were many reactions Hux might have had to the revelation.  The immediate and most palatable one was to laugh.

“Is he, now?”  he asked between chuckles, which were ugly, cynical things that perfectly encapsulated just how absurd the notion was. Yet entirely plausible, because Ren was an absurd man, so why should his past be any different?

Amidala’s eyes narrowed. “The notion is so amusing to you?”

“Well, there are a few papers I dismissed as drivel and propaganda; it seems I owe them an apology.” He snickered again. “How astonishing! The great Queen Padme Amidala did indeed beget a bastard.”

“A bastard, you say?” she hummed thoughtfully.

“You have never married. All of England knows. If Ren is indeed your blood, then it can only be through an illegitimate child.”

“All of England is wrong,” she replied simply, before tilting her head slightly to the side. “You should not be so quick to assume you know and master all; look at where it has gotten you.”

Hux stiffened, wounded fury coursing through his veins at the insinuation. He opened his mouth to deliver a jab of his own, but before he could reply, the door slammed open once more.

Hux’s heart lurched when he saw Ren enter the room.

His lover’s eyes were trained upon him, wide with fear, shining with relief. Hux wanted to rise from the bed and embrace him. He wanted to hit him for the fear he had inspired and the pain he had caused, for reducing Hux to a weeping wretch. Wanted to kiss him for joy at having lived to see him once more.

Instead, he turned away and purposefully sneered at Ren’s presence.

He felt Ren’s mood shift, and out of the corner of his eye saw him turn towards the Queen.

“What did you tell him?!” he demanded, glaring furiously at the Queen, who remained profoundly unaffected.

“Nothing he had no right to know.” Her voice turned hard. “And nothing you have a right to police.”

“I should have been told as soon as he was awake. Why wasn’t I?!”

“Because this is not your home,” the Queen snapped. “And you would do well to remember that for all the goodwill I am inclined to extend towards you, your position in my good graces is only slightly less precarious than his!”

Ren said nothing, but his sullen glare spoke volumes. Queen and grandson engaged in a battle of nerves, each staring at the other as if the mere act alone would be enough to force the over to cave into their will.

In the end, Ren caved in first by glancing towards Hux; by that point, Hux had given up any pretense that he was not looking back.

The Queen let out a huff that somehow sounded more dignified than petulant.  “Attend you lover, _Benjamin._ I find myself tiring of his presence,” she said coldly. She turned towards Hux, eyes hard. “We will speak later.”

With that, she left, leaving no time for Hux or Ren to acknowledge her words or formulate a reply. Neither were needed, really; Queen Padme Amidala had not given requests, but orders she was kind enough to defer the execution of.

Both Hux and Ren left alone in the room, which had once again had been plunged into silence. However, the mood could not quite reach the hostility it had moments prior, for Ren exuded nothing but a tentative hope that quickly gave way to heartbreak at Hux’s persisting defensiveness.

 _I cursed you,_ Hux’s mind sneered, almost despite himself. _I thought myself a dead man, and in my final moments I cursed you for every tender sentiment you inspired in me. Did you know? Did you hear?_

Hux clenched his jaw.

He would not break, not again. He would not let Ren do this to him again.

Seemingly reading Hux’s mind – and perhaps he had indeed, Hux could not know – Ren’s face spasmed with pain. “Hux, I -”

“Ren,” Hux cut him off – he could not listen to Ren’s earnest pleading, not if he wished to remain strong. “It appears I am not dead after all.” He swallowed. “Such a cruel trick you played.”

He almost winced as soon as the words left his lips; he had wanted to sound biting, accusatory. Instead, he came across as the wounded fragile thing he so felt like. Worse of all, when Ren flinched back as Hux had hoped he would, Hux felt little satisfaction.

“I am sorry,” Ren said, his voice barely above a murmure. “I needed to fool them, and through them Snoke. Simply tampering with their memories would not have sufficed; my mast… Snoke would have seen right through the deception.”

“Well, you certainly played your part convincingly.”

“Pease, Hux, I…”

“Why did you not come to me?!” Hux blurted out. “Why did I spend five days anguishing over your absence, why did you not let me know you were safe, or your plans, or-”

He cut himself off, far too late. His cheeks burned.

Ren whined miserably. “I am sorry…. I was unsure of what to do. Snoke had spoken ill of my attachment to you, I thought that perhaps some distance between us would mollify him. Then he asked me to… to prove my loyalty, and I…”

“You went to the Queen herself,” Hux finished for him. He let out a cynical laugh. “Some connections you have.”

Ren bristled at that, of all things. “I hadn’t spoken to her in years,” he replied sullenly.

“Why did you not tell me you had such an illustrious grandmother?” Hux demanded. 

 _Why did you hide yourself from me, when I was beginning to lay myself bare for you?_ He didn’t add.

 “It wasn’t supposed to matter,” Ren said. “For the longest time, I did not even know we were related at all.”

“You didn’t _know?_ ” Hux repeated, aghast. “You are the descendent of this nation’s monarch, and you did not know?!”

Ren nodded. For a moment, it appeared as if he would say nothing more on the subject, but once again his eyes gave him away. Hux could have traced every step of Ren’s mental deliberation, all the way to the moment when his lover closed his eyes and reluctantly began to speak.

“I was not told!” Ren said defensively. “My mother is the Queen’s daughter by blood but is an Organa in all other manner. She did not flaunt her heritage. She even did her best to destroy all evidence, especially that concerning my grandfather.”

“Your grandfather? Why on Earth would they…”

“He was Lord Vader.”

The silence that followed Ren’s words was almost comical in absoluteness. Ren was visibly holding his breath, waiting for a resulting outburst from Hux.

He must have been disappointed. All Hux could do was blink, quite stupidly. “Come again? No, never mind,” Hux added when Ren opened his mouth to repeat himself. He pinched his brow. “I do believe I heard you correctly.”

“Hux…”

“Are you telling me,” Hux said slowly, “that Queen Padme Amidala and _Lord Vader_ had a bastard child?”

“Two,” Ren corrected almost thoughtlessly. At Hux’s incredulous stare, he added more sheepishly: “I had mentioned my uncle before…”

“I thought he was the brother of your low-born father,” Hux snapped, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. He shook his head to clear his increasingly chaotic thoughts. “Lady Organa… A bastard.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Some illegitimate children are more fortunate than others, I suppose.”

Ren’s features spasmed in pain. “Hux…”

“I can understand why she would wish to hide that ugly secret,” Hux continued, willfully pushing past Ren’s grating pity. “I can even understand why she would wish to erase that fact from history entirely – not enough to be illegitimate, her actions during her Rebellion make her almost patricide. So why would she tell you, if she had resolved to keep it secret?”

Ren looked to the side. “I learned it by accident,” he answered, each word sounding as if it were forcefully pulled out of him. “During an argument with my father, I… I lost control of my abilities, and went far deeper into his mind than I ever intended.” He worried his lip, briefly, before releasing it in a too sudden gesture. Hux could see him mentally berate himself for the display. “I... It was not a kind picture within his mind. It didn’t expect it to be; Vader was a cursed name in our household, and if they saw so much of him within me, then it made sense that they cursed me as well. Our fight only got worse when my mother came into the room and saw what I had done. She so disapproved of my abilities, always, and when it came to choosing between her husband and me…” He let out a shaky breath, an ugly combination of sadness and anger. “I suppose she had made the choice long ago. She merely used my outburst as an excuse to validate everything she had ever thought, or feared, or-”

“Ren,” Hux interrupted, voice far gentler than it had been previously. “You do not have to speak of this.”

Though his bruised pride and scarred soul still demanded retribution, he had grown terribly weak in the face of Ren’s distress. And there was no mistaking how little Ren wished to revisit the past, yet he did so anyway on the vague promise that Hux’s anger might be soothed for it.

Hux wished to know, and he wished for Ren to be sorry for the cruel trick he played. He wished for proof that he would never hurt Hux so again.

But somewhere along the way, in all things concerning Ren, Hux had lost his taste for cruelty.

“That was the night I left, and began the behavior I became infamous for,” Ren continued. Hux was relieved at the newfound smoothness to his speech. “The Queen is barely more family to me than my mother and father. I wouldn’t have spoken to her ever again, if it weren’t for you.”

Hux closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Past intentions hardly help us now. We can only move forward from the current situation.” He opened his eyes, his gaze resolute. “No more lies, Ren. Not even by omission.” “Just _who are you?_ ”

Ren frowned. “I am as I said I was.”

“I beg to differ,” Hux retorted, not quite gently. “I nearly died because of my acquaintance with Kylo Ren, and was saved because Benjamin Organa is the Queen of England’s – I can hardly believe I am saying this - secret grandchild _._ ”

“I do not like it when you use that name,” Ren mumbled.

“Is that _truly_ what you wish to focus on?”

Ren huffed, but did not press the issue. “I told the truth. Anakin Skywalker was my grandfather. He was a great man, and a great leader. Unlike his colleagues, born into nobility, he was a commoner who imposed himself through his skill. He was commended by the Queen herself for his exploits, and soon they both fell in love. It-”

“Ren, I do _not_ care about Skywalker’s history.”

“He married her in secrecy, and they had two children!” Ren finished, speaking quickly. He kept the same pace as he went through the rest to his tail. “One of them was my mother. My grandmother had to retire in secrecy to give birth. It was around that time that Palpatine extended his influence and power far beyond that of Prime Minister. With England so firmly under his control, and her own life in jeopardy should she oppose him directly, her temporary retreat turned into an exile.” He hesitated then. “I don’t know what else you wish for me to say.”

It took a moment for Hux to digest that information. Ren had been almost too succinct. “Lord Vader was a prominent man under Palpatine’s regime. Why would he support a regime that was so hostile to his wife?”

“The unrest in France troubled him, Kings and Queens being executed by the masses especially. He feared it would spread to England, and that she would lose her life to it. He thought only a strong government could keep it at bay, and he carried that idea for a long time before Palpatine gave him opportunity to enact it. I think… I think he thought she would come to her senses.”

“You _think_?”

“I was not born, Hux!” Ren snapped, more in irritation than in anger. “What I know is only what I have been told, or what I have inferred!”

Hux’s cheeks flushed slightly at that, but he forcefully shoved his embarrassment down. He had been stabbed and had woken up to absurdity. He was under no obligation to be fair.

“So you are royalty,” he stated instead. No matter how much he repeated that fact, he could still hardly make sense of it.

“I am a descendent of Lord Vader,” Ren corrected. “That is all that concerns me.”

“Yes, but a claim to the throne would have given our little enterprise some more legitimacy.” He let out a dejected laugh. “Then again, I suppose it isn’t _ours_ any longer. If it ever was at all.”

Ren blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“Then you are an idiot,” Hux retorted, but there was little bite in if. Or if there was, it was solely directed towards himself. “Or perhaps I was. To believe men with power would ever wish to share it. In the end, what hope did we have against wizards? _Royal_ wizards at that.”

“That is not fair. I was born with the Force; I cannot give it to you. But in all things, I supported you. I gave you everything I knew to give!”

Ren’s hurt laced his every word. It summoned guilt within the pit of Hux’s heart, but that guilt was quickly smothered by the humiliation he felt – a humiliation made even worse by its familiarity. It was a humiliation that had followed him all his life, that of a bastard who would always be beneath any person of consequence; ever burning embers that could flare into bitter infernos.

“But it was pointless! The entire time, I toiled away to make myself _more,_ make myself _better,_ but in the end I was nothing more than an ant too small to realize it was crushed beneath a boot! I devised the greatest weapon known to man, wielding resources and energy none have ever manipulated before. I created death made matter, and _you stopped it with your mind!_ ”

“Because of you!”

Hux startled. He hadn’t expected for Ren to shout, especially not with such raw honesty. And anger, frustration, _love_ , a thousand other things as well, all pouring out like a waterfall that had up until then been contained in a glass. Hux’s lips parted open, but no sound escaped; the sudden swell in his chest and tightening in his heart made it impossible/

“That power came from you,” Ren repeated, his chest heaving. “I had never done such a thing before, never would have even dreamed of it. But then there was you, so close to Death, and I felt such terror at the thought. And fury as well, for how dare She!” he spat out. “How dare She claim you when I had so recently claimed you as mine? How could she think I would allow it? I fought her back, that Death draped in red light. For you.”

“Ren…”

“Oh, are you stunned? Will you try to make me believe that this is news to you?” Ren asked wildly. He was shaking now, not from anger but from feelings too strong for even such a tempestuous man as himself to contain. “No, you know, surely you must know the power you have over me. And you use it so cruelly too, making me stand here and allow you to pour your bile on me. I do it gladly, do you know? I find the sight of your rage to be far sweeter than the prospect of your absence. I would weather your storm, betray my master, return to the blood that has failed me so profoundly, all because the prospect of a world without you in it is simply too horrible to bare! So before you decry my magic, reflect upon yours for it is far more powerful than anything I have even wielded!”

With that, he pawed at his vest, reaching inside to pull at the gyroscope he kept within. For the first time, it looked like nothing more than metal on a rod, the mystique of it completely faded from Hux’s eyes. Perhaps it had to do with the way it simply rested in the palm of Ren’s hand, rather than hover. Or more likely to do with the way Ren looked at it, like a broken bauble too worthless to repair.

 “It is useless now,” Ren said. He was quieter now, drained from everything after he had put all of himself at Hux’s feet. “It only ever points to you.”

With that, he let it fall to the ground. It hit the carpet in a muted thud.

Hux stared at it for a long while, his throat to tight for words to come out. He did not even know what he would say if he could speak at all.

What he would say to Ren, what was in his heart, he had never been skilled at expressing.

“Come here,” he said softly, extending his hand in invitation.

Ren shook his head.

“Please, Ren,” Hux added, because though he could not let Ren’s declaration go unanswered, he knew no other way to reciprocate.

Of course, Ren complied in the end. How could he not? If the longing he felt for Hux was half as strong as the longing Hux had felt for him, then to come into Hux’s arms must have been as much as a choice as breathing.

One could hold one’s breath as long as one may, but in the end would only be left desperate for air. When Hux felt Ren’s body against his for the first time in over a week, he took the full measure of just how starved he had been.

The two of them were hardly a graceful pair, with Ren half sprawled over Hux’s legs, his head tucked beneath Hux’s chin, Hux himself in a nightshirt that was half-untied. Neither of them cared.

“I am hurt,” Hux murmured against Ren’s hair. His hand caressed Ren’s back, a silent apology he still couldn’t quite bring himself to speak. “And when injured, I have always been prone to hurting back.”

  _Like a rabid cur,_ his father once said. At the time, Hux had worn the insult like a badge of pride.

“I know. And your aim is always true,” Ren said mournfully. “I can forgive you, if you would let me sooth your hurt in return.”

Hux pressed a kiss to Ren’s hair. _You already do,_ he needed not say. Surely Ren could feel it in the way Hux’s hands could not relinquish their hold on him.

Neither of them spoke for a while, content in holding onto each other and listening to the other breathe. In a moment of foolish sentiment, Hux wished for the two of them to never leave this room. Let them stay here forever, forever in an embrace, shielding each other from whatever and whoever would dare come near them.

Alas, the outside world still existed, and with it perils neither of them could truly hide from.

“Snoke would see me dead still,” Hux said softly.

“I know,” Ren murmured. “I will not let him.” 

Hux said nothing, merely continued to stroke Ren’s hair. He knew such defiance did not come easy to Ren.

And indeed, soon after his lover began to cling to him harder, his body shacking as barely repressed sobs of anger and despair tore at him.

“He made me choose. I did not wish to. I do not wish to…” Ren babbled, before cutting himself off. “He made me…”

“He cannot make you do anything,” Hux said gently, despite knowing no tone of voice would be able to lessen the sting Ren would feel.

Ren’s eyes squeezed closed, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. His fingers tightened their hold on Hux’s nightshirt. “I love you. I love you so dearly,” he swore. “Please believe it, even if your anger had driven you to hate me.”

Hux kissed the top of Ren’s hair, and held him close.

He said nothing.

**~*~**

****

The next few days were largely spent focusing on recovery, a dreadful experience on both a physical and mental level – though the later was the worse of the two. Though Hux was not familiar with injury, there was a certain grace in bearing it with stoicism that suited him well. On the other hand, bearing the attention of the Queen’s servants as they dispassionately disrobed him and tended the wound was nothing but an exercise in humiliation and lack of trust. Hux would have much preferred to have a physician attend him, but he suspected that one had already come by whilst he was unconscious and had doled out the instructions the servants were now following. Though he found the situation profoundly uncomfortable, Hux had to concede that they were doing a fine job, as the wound remained clean and the bandages were changed regularly.

Granted, their work was made easier by the limited extent of the damage done. It seemed that Ren had indeed been precise in delivering his blow; though the torn muscles would still need time to stitch themselves back together, the cut did not impair any muscles vital to his central balance or his ability to walk. Deep breaths were painful, but Hux was soon able to get back on his feet.

It was a better alternative than lounging in his bed all day. That being said, his days were hardly overflowing with activity, as there was simply nothing worthwhile for him to do here. No great purpose to devote himself to, and though the specter of Snoke still loomed and occupied much of his thoughts, there was little he could do at the present moment. Ren had assured him that the old man had made no further move since his attempt on Hux’s life. It was unclear whether he was merely taking his time, or had been stalled in some manner. Ren’s attempts at finding out had been unsuccessful.

Granted, Hux’s lover was still wrestling with his loyalties to his master, and thus was reluctant to approach Snoke directly. His investigations largely focused on the underlings and officers that worked for him. Since they were largely kept in the dark of anything they need not know, it was not a very fruitful endeavor. And yet, Ren still avoided Snoke, and though he did not say as much Hux knew that it had just as much to do with precaution against Snoke’s telepathic skills as the fact that Ren simply could not bear fully confronting Snoke as an enemy.

It worried Hux immensely.

To his credit, Ren seemed more aware than ever of Hux’s distress, and thus did his very best to reassure Hux that his heart was with him entirely. He spent nearly every moment of spare time in Hux’s presence. Every morning, around an hour after Hux had risen, he would come through the door, and greet Hux with a kiss that was slightly more tentative than before but no less sincere. He would then make great effort in supplying Hux with whatever he desired, be it entertainment, information regarding Snoke and his minions, or the physical displays of affection that Hux could not always bring himself to ask for, but relished all the same. Barring that, Ren simply lay on Hux’s bed beside him, holding him close whilst Hux rested from the strain of healing from injury.

Such behavior recalled the later days of their collaboration, before the kiss or the whirlwind that had followed, when Hux would be swept away by Ren’s impulses, and other days would simply toil away in his study whilst Ren quietly busied himself in a nearby chair, his presence unobtrusive yet still sending sparks of excitement and yet unrecognized desire down Hux’s spine. Yet now, the sparks had been replaced by a slow crawl of unease, as Hux’s hurt and humiliation refused to leave him entirely. Hux did not know if they plagued him, or if he himself clung to them to sooth his pride. Whatever the case, he felt powerless in the face of them, unable to do anything but suffer them and their consequences.

Hux knew Ren sensed it. He could tell by the air of defeated guilt that clung to him even as he did his best to please Hux. Hux knew, and ignored it.

On the fifth morning since he had awoken, the routine was broken when the irritant of a butler stepped through the door rather than Ren. An unpleasant surprise that was made even worse when he informed Hux that the Queen was currently in the gardens, and requested that he join. With ill grace, Hux dismissed the servant, yet still complied with the barely disguised order.

He did make sure to tarry as much as he could reasonable get away with, out of principle if nothing else.

Once outside, he was glad that his petty stance and efforts to stall had caused him to put on both a scarf and a pair of gloves. Winter was well on its way now, the weather was terribly cold. That added discomfort seemed, somehow, to be an added insult to the entire situation.

The Queen was not hard to find: her deep red coat with golden accents contrasted sharply with the browns and whites of dirt and half-melted snow. She seemed to be doing nothing in particular, merely staring at a garden that was of no great visual interest given the current season. There was a thoughtful air to her that hinted that she was contemplating something far greater than naked trees and empty flower beds.

She shook herself out of her reverie as soon as Hux approached, her gaze turning sharp and the wistfulness fading from her features. “Lord Hux,” she greeted, perfectly polite and not much else. “I am very glad you could join me.”

Hux inclined his head gracefully. “An invitation from the Queen is an honor that cannot be refused. Especially when one is a guest in her home,” he answered smoothly. Two could play that game.

The Queen nodded once. “Walk with me.”

She did wait to see if he would comply, not that there was any doubt that he would. Now that he was here, he found himself curious as to why he had been summoned at all. No doubt the Queen had much she wished to say to him regarding a very obvious subject, though Hux could not imagine the details of the words she would have for him.

Whatever the case, she did not seem in too much of a hurry to speak them. She let the silence hang as the two of them strolled down a stone path, her heels loudly hitting each pavement stone. It brought to Hux’s mind the sound of drums leading to the gallows. He frowned at himself for such a meek thought.

“How are your injuries?” the Queen inquired after five long minutes of silence. She did not look at him as she spoke.

“They are mending well, your Majesty,” Hux replied with matching idleness; it would not do for him to appear insulted by her behavior.

“My grandson stabbed you with precision,” she continued. “You must be thankful.”

Hux pursed his lips at that. _Gratitude_ was a bridge too far.  “Surely, the ruse could have been done without bringing me injury.”

The Queen scoffed. “Surely you will understand why I will not weep over it.”

Hux had no response to give. He looked away, and pretended to be fascinated with the unimpressive scenery.

“I suppose this is an interrogation,” he said after two additional moments of silent. By that point the two of them had wandered into a more secluded area, a small maze-like structure made of bushes and moss-covered walls.

“In my gardens? Alone?” The Queen shot him an unimpressed look.  “I thought you were smarter than that.”

Despite himself, Hux felt rather miffed at the dismissal. “You will never have a more valuable source of intelligence.”

She shrugged. “Benjamin has shared many secrets; consider it a price for your safekeeping here. As for the rest…. I know all I need to know of Snoke.”

“Additional insight is never to be squandered.”

“Which I do not trust you to give to me,” she retorted in a slightly more biting manner. “I have better sources. Leia Organa is the head of my information network. She is devoted to the defense of Democracy, and,” she added with a pointed look, “she has resources and the loyalty of men you could only dream to have on your side, let alone deserve.”

Hux’s mind conjured an image of Mitaka, and with it a stab of guilt, and somehow, indignation that his valet would not be a man whose loyalty could be valued. “Then why is she not here?” he challenged.

“Her work can be done elsewhere – and with Snoke still preparing his move, it is even more vital that she be close to the center of action to stop his agents.” After a moment, she added. “Additionally, I believe she is at her happiest when she sees little of me.”

“Well, we have that in common,” Hux mumbled before he could censure himself.

The Queen rolled her eyes in a rather unladylike manner. “Save your bile. It will not bring you the sense of superiority you so obviously crave.”

Again, Hux had no reply. “Why did you call me here?” he half-snapped instead. He was growing tired of their game.

The Queen paused in her steps then. For a moment, she looked straight ahead, letting out a heavy but silent exhale that Hux would not have noticed were it not for the fog leaving her lips.

“I wish to speak of Benjamin.”

Of course she did.

 Hux did not reply. For once, it was his turn to wield silence as a weapon, letting the Queen elaborate before he risked himself.

“The last time I had seen him was years ago. He was a wounded, angry youth, and so soon after truly meeting me he vowed to never be in my presence again.” She turned towards him, and for once her gaze was not scathing but rather curious. “A week ago, he came to me a wounded and desperate man, forced his way through my guards and begged for my assistance. It was a rather jarring change of heart.”

“I can imagine,” Hux replied blandly.

His cynicism did not perturb her. “I had hoped for it, of course. Prayed for it, even. I have never imagined that it would happen like this.” It was odd, the manner in which she spoke: hopeful, yet resigned. Relieved, yet mournful. “What did you do to him, to change him so?”

That question; what was Hux meant to answer?

_Nothing. I don’t know. I have done nothing to him, and he has done everything to me. He has ruined me, and I have thanked him for it._

“Why do you call him Benjamin? It is not his preferred form of address.”

“I will not call him by the name he used to hide from himself.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re evading the question.”

“I have no answer to give,” Hux answered with exhausted honestly. “You ask me what changed him, but by rights that query should be mine to ask. I have never known Ren as anything other than what he is. The person you speak of, that Benjamin Organa, I know very little of. He told me some, but his heart is too guarded to reveal all. For a man of such brutal emotions, he shrouds the root of them in secrecy.” He tilted his head to the side. “Of course, recent events have brought new information to light.”

The Queen’s spine straightened at that, full hostility reasserting itself. “I do not owe you the details of my past.”

“You wished to speak of _Benjamin._ From what I gather, he is a creature whose existence evolves exclusively in the past tense.” Despite his own unease with the subject, it was all Hux could do not to smirk; he could feel himself regaining the upper hand. “I cannot answer your question if I don’t know who Benjamin Organa was.”

He could see the Queen’s internal deliberation, all reflected through her eyes. In that manner, it was astounding how much she looked like her grandson – though the Queen was surely better at concealing her emotions if need be. Still, Hux found echoes of Ren in the slight downturn of her mouth and the soulfulness of her eyes; the thought made him feel too odd to describe.

 “He was… complicated,” she said finally, choosing the words with a tact that betrayed her unease at revealing such matters to Hux.

“He still is,” Hux replied. Though granted, Ren could also be incredibly straightforward. It was a dichotomy that Hux had still been learning to apprehend, before eve, this whole debacle had occurred.  “A complicated personality, with complicated abilities, and an even more complicated family history. I would be hard pressed to determine which of the three is the most spectacular.”

The Queen sighed at that, then carried on, fully resigned at sharing a history she would have rather kept for herself. “I could not keep my children by my side, for their sake. For England’s sake. I could have admitted to having married General Skywalker, but to give Lord Vader any claim on the royal line was unthinkable. It would have given him and the regime he supported a legitimacy I could not allow. With no other choice, my son was raised in the colonies, and still favors them to the day. My daughter was taken in by Lord and Lady Organa.”

“One certainly got the short end of the stick.”

Queen Amidala glared at him, but continued her tale. “My daughter never acknowledged me as anything more than a sovereign. I can hardly blame her for it. Nor can I blame her for speaking so ill of Lord Vader. He has done terrible things, both against the values she holds dear and the people that meant the most to her.” She faltered then, her eyes betraying ancient sorrow, before she swallowed it down and continued speaking with the air of someone who was used to carrying on despite pain. “It hurt, nonetheless, though I knew it shouldn’t. In retrospect, I should have simply been grateful that she had allowed me into her grandson’s life, for a time.”

“A time?” Hux repeated. “I take it did not last long?”

“Shall I tell you every single anecdote?” she snapped. “Will your curiosity be satisfied then?”

“You are under no obligation to tell me anything,” Hux answered just as sharply. “But _Benjamin_ will not speak of it either, because he still finds the memory too raw. So I would imagine anything pertaining to that little family secret is of importance, if one wishes to understand him.”

It was only after speaking those words that he realized how truly he meant them. He _needed_ to know, _needed_ to understand, for perhaps then his own feelings towards Ren would make sense to him. How is it that he could be so cold to him in his presence, yet feel the urge to defend him when the Queen spoke of him? How could he be so admirative, so proud of Ren’s powers, yet still look upon him and feel the cold hand of helplessness and fear squeeze at his heart?

The early days of their relationship had never been simple but had always felt as natural as breathing. Hux missed it almost too much to bear.  

He did not know if it was that desperate honesty that persuaded the Queen, or if it was the mere logic of his words that swayed her. Whatever the case, she relented, and spoke of her past some more:

“For a time, Leia brought Benjamin along during some of her visits – not quite in secrecy, though there was no official justification as to why a child of no direct relation to the Queen would be brought along so often. Most of the time, he would simply play in the garden while his mother and I talked.” Her voice dimmed. “It was a pleasant approximation of a family outing.”

As she spoke, she appeared to shift before Hux’s very eyes, dignity and stoicism slowly chipped away in favor of bone deep melancholy. It might have been a victory to shatter her composure so, but Hux only felt destabilized by the metamorphosis; for all his scorn at her politics and his past plotting against her, Padme Amidala had always seemed to him to be the woman of stories and legacy.  Yet in that moment, she did appear the veteran monarch, the Queen who was certain to leave her mark on England’s history.

She was nothing more than an old woman to whom history had not been kind at all.

“One day, he had brought along some toy soldiers – it was a favorite set of his, though his mother would have preferred different interests. For some time he simply entertained himself, but approximately an hour in he came to us. He needed a new name for his toy – I could not possibly tell you why, but his mind had been made up. He asked me who was the best general the world had ever seen. At first his mother answered Lord Kenobi, but he scrunched his nose at that. He said there couldn’t be two Bens in the battle, or the soldiers would be confused. His mother laughed at that, and Benjamin grew miffed in a way only a child could be. He became more and more insistent. He turned to me, pleaded with a tone to his voice and a determination to his brow that was so familiar… I answered, “Anakin Skywalker.” She chuckled without humor. “Leia ceased to laugh immediately.”

“Did you expect anything else? It was not wise of you”

“A moment of weakness. Or of nostalgia, I could not say.” She sighed. “Whatever the case, I was never forgiven for it. Leia never brought her son to me again. She wanted that past buried forever.”

“That worked out for the best,” Hux commented drily. “I did not think Organa could be so foolish. Her lie could have never withstood time.”

Secrets could only be kept as such if one was the only one aware of them. Additionally, if the person being kept a secret from was an emotional mind reader, it tended to add an additional layer of impossibility.

The Queen nodded. “I disagreed with her, but I couldn’t go against her wishes directly. Especially not when Benjamin was so young. I thought, when he is older I would speak with his mother, should he ever have suspicion I would be there.” She paused, then let out a short laugh. It was more cynical than anything Hux had ever heard from her. “The issue seems fairly obvious when spoken out loud, dose it not? Should he, if, when…There would never have been a right time. My mistake was in waiting for one. Though sometimes I wonder…”

Again, Hux needn’t say anything. The past had fully taken hold of the old Queen, her initial reticence gone in favor of voicing every thought and every regret she might have had regarding something she could never speak of.

“Benjamin has never been… secure,” she mused, speaking slowly as she pondered her words with greater care than Hux would have expected. It was as if she were expecting Ren to be right around the corner, ready to hear her every word, and so she sought to spare his feelings. “His heart bruised easily, and his hurt was quick to turn into anger. Always waiting for others to fail him. I suppose I should say dreading, but dread is but another form of expectations.” She pursed her lips. “My daughter and her husband were fallible people. Good, but fallible. It must have been so easy for them to prove their son right, especially when that son was all but waiting for them to disappoint him.”

“They chose to conceal the truth from him,” Hux answered, more sharply than he had expected of himself. “They spawned their own consequences! What does it matter what Ren expected, he certainly did not force them in proving him right!”

He hadn’t expected his heckles to be risen so, but he found himself terribly defensive regarding her assessment of Ren’s character. He was not hers to slander, or to look down upon when she knew him not.

If anyone held any claim to Ren, it could only be Hux. He would not stand for anything else.

The Queen looked at him curiously, but Hux was steadfast in holding her gaze. Whatever reason she had to shame him, he would not let her.

“That is true,” she said slowly, after a long moment of silence. “Benjamin is not to blame for their choices, or mine. Nor can we in good conscience call his hurt unwarranted. He was entitled to it, and to his anger. But the choices he made under their guidance… They are still his choices, and he chose to turn his back on us and pursue the dark path he trod. That is not on us. We failed him, but did not reject him.”

“He recalls it differently,” Hux said.

“I am certain he does,” she said, more resigned than anything else. “If he hasn’t been cast out, then what legitimacy have his actions? There is no glory in being motivated by hurt, spite and insecurities.”

“He believes you curse both him and Vader alike,” he pressed. The image of a shaking, stammering Ren would not soon leave his mind.

Her expression darkened, melancholy settling upon it like a shroud. “Anakin could use the Force; he transferred that power to his descendants. But Luke is a gentle man, and would never use it as he had. Leia is much more like her biological father, but has little taste for the Force outside of necessity. Ben had both Anakin’s power and his temperament. And when they are angry, when they are hurt… well, they both made similar mistakes.” She looked away. “And I failed to stop them both times.”

“Ah, yes. I was wondering about that,” Hux commented with false idleness. “I take it that was the last time either of you spoke?”

She nodded.  “When I heard of his falling out with his family, I knew that he knew. And I knew he was hurting. So I went to him.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. “Did you think to change his mind?”

“I thought to sooth him,” she snapped. “He was nothing but raw nerve, wrestling with the fears of his family and his own. His fear of failure, their fear of Vader, fear for him which he mistook for fear of him. And the hatred they bore for Vader he felt as if it were directed towards himself. So I thought, why not speak of Anakin instead of Vader?” She let out a shaky breath.  “I told him all about the man I loved, about the General close to his people, the man with powers too great for even himself to comprehend. I thought that if I painted the picture of a man, rather than a monster, then it would sooth the bitterness of the revelation.”

“I dare say it worked rather too well,” Hux said, thinking back to the evening in the pub back in Coruscounty. “He seems rather protective of the man these days.”

The Queen sighed sadly. “I wished to paint a more accurate and complicated picture of the past; sadly, Benjamin never cared for nuances. That the man his mother so hated could be painted as a tragic figure, a wronged hero misunderstood by the woman who so misunderstood Ren… There is a temptation in that.”

Oh, but Hux could see it all too well. The fierce Kylo Ren, who felt too keenly and fell too fast, whose recklessness in sentiment and actions had been the weapons with which he tore down the fortress Hux had barricaded himself in. What a victory that must have been for him, to realize just how terribly vulnerable he had rendered Hux.

But Ren could not be triumphant all the time; his passions could far too easily lead him astray.

“And Snoke?” Hux asked, for there was no escaping that man, the blight upon their lives.

The Queen’s expression hardened, and before she even spoke Hux felt envigored by their mutual loathing. “I know little about him. I do not know his genealogy. I do not know when he approached Benjamin. It doesn’t matter, really. He is a man who lusts for power, a despicable yet common vermin. And he saw someone whom he could easily manipulate – by nature, and yes, because of our mistakes.” So wrathful were her features, so scornful, Hux thought she might spit on the ground at the mere mention of the so hated man.  “That is all that concerns me about Snoke; I need not know more of him to know that I despise him.”

Hux nodded. “On that, I agree with you.” He drew a breath, stealing himself to speak a truth he would still rather deny. “Ren doesn’t.”

“No, I imagine he doesn’t,” the Queen said slowly, some sadness tainting her anger. “Han and Leia were fallible people, but Snoke is so skilled at removing any sort of personhood from himself. Through his magic and his own perverse soul, he makes himself an idol whose golden luster conceals the rot within.” She sighed. “Kylo spent his life hunting for deception, but never wanted anything more than to believe. For a man like Snoke, he must have been easy prey.”

“Many fall for Snoke’s charm. I have seen it; the very first time I met him, I marveled at how he could present himself as whatever his audience wished him to be.”

The Queen’s gaze turned scrutinizing. “And what of you?” she asked.

“I might have,” Hux answered honestly, thinking of the early days when Snoke’s favors could easily quell his unease. “But then I grew jealous.”

There was a long moment of silence as the Queen contemplated his words. In the winter, there was no sound to fill the void save the wind hitting against the bushes and walls. Hux endured the heavy atmosphere, his gaze unflinching in the face of her judgment.

Let her think what she would. What did it matter?

Whatever she may think, there was nothing she could do that could harm him. Ren would never allow it.

“Benjamin has cut ties with his mother and father,” the Queen finally said. There was a finality to her speech, much like a judge passing sentence. “His uncle is on the other side of the Earth. He will not trust me, even as he begs for my help.” Her eyes narrowed. “You are the sole worthwhile bond he has. Words fail to describe how that sickens me.”

“I expected no less from you,” Hux said coldly, irritated but unsurprised. He hadn’t expected this conversation to change her opinion of him, nor had he cared.

“Do you find it insulting?”

“No. I find it to be a sign of clarity on your part. You see me as I am. However, I thought you were grateful I have returned Ren to your side.”

“ _You_ have done nothing,” she corrected sharply. “And if you know what is best for you, you will continue in that vein.”

Hux’s brows furrowed. “Meaning?”

“Benjamin has done many wrongs, but he is still my grandson,” she continued, threat lacing her every word as her warning became clearer. “I love him dearly, and I will not allow him to be manipulated by another again.”

Hux stiffened. “What are you implying?”

“A man from nothing. A man of ambition. A man who would do whatever it takes to satisfy his need for power,” the Queen listed off slowly. Somehow, impossibly, her stare grew heavier. “What difference is there between you and Snoke?”

Hux sucked in a breath, felt it catch in his throat and render him speechless. His hands were shaking, from rage or something else he did not know. He hid them behind his back, digging his nails into his palms. It did not help.

_What difference is there between you and Snoke?_

How he hated her.

“If we are done,” he said, his flat voice matching the mute outrage that was ringing within his mind.

With that, he turned on his heels before any dismissal could be given. He walked away at a brisk pace, a barely disguised flee as her gaze and her words hounded his every step.

**~*~**

Hux did not tell Ren of that conversation. He reasoned that doing so would only anger Ren against his grandmother, which would not be helpful in their situation. He argued with himself that speaking of it at all would be a sign of weakness, a proof that Hux had been shaken by their talk, and that alone was enough reason not to.

In truth though, the Queen’s words still stuck with him, even days later, and he could not bring himself to seek out Ren to have them denied. He feared far too much that Ren would side with the Queen’s assessment (and perhaps more terrifyingly, that he would find little wrong with it.)

_What difference is there between you and Snoke?_

Hux grit his teeth.

The very question was insulting, far beyond what Hux could articulate, or even comprehend. He did not know why the comparison made him so viscerally repulsed. It went far beyond his own loathing of the old man, or his own feelings towards Ren. Carelessly or purposefully, the Queen had touched on something bone deep, so deeply hidden that not even Hux could see it clearly, yet he still felt shaken to the core by it.

Ren could sense his disquiet, but could not extract a word from him on the subject even after a full day’s attempt. His distress at Hux’s silence quickly morphed into frustration, then into full blown anger when an argument resulted from his pressing. Despite himself, Hux could not budge from his stance.  In the end, Ren had stormed out of the room and the castle entirely, though not before berating Hux for his inability to confide in him. 

Ren’s departure left Hux in a foul mood, more so because he could not fault Ren for his reaction. He spent the next three hours in his room, mulling over their argument.  Despite all the scenarios that played out in his mind, he could never make himself come out both victorious and righteous.

When Treepio entered his room despite Hux’s wishes, Hux very nearly hurled his cup at him.

“Lord Hux,” the butler said, fighting a stammer that stemmed from the speed of his speech and his nerves in front of Hux’s gaze. “Your presence is requested in the main sitting room.”

“Why?” Hux snapped.

“Lord Ren brought guests,” Treepio answered. “He meant to bring them to you, but the Queen denied him, and-”

Hux had already risen from his chair and left the room before the butler could finish. He made haste towards the sitting room. As he came closer, he heard voices seeping through the door into the hallways.

“I care not, Benjamin,” he heard the Queen say, the frustration in her tone betraying a long running argument. “Hux I allowed, given your affection and his injury. But my home is not a political asylum for traitors and murderers.”

 “I only wished to bring the valet,” Ren replied, speaking in a calm manner that Hux could only imagine to be even more infuriating to the Queen. “She came along on her own.”

“And you did not stop her?”

“Hux would enjoy seeing her,”

“It is not for him to decide who is allowed entrance!”

The Queen’s shout came much clearer, as that was the moment when Hux opened the door. What greeted him was the familiar sight of Ren and the Queen, as well as two additional figures.

Among them, Hux recognized Mitaka, and felt an absurd swell of relief at the sight. He hadn’t known what had become of him, and had been unwilling to ask, for fear of implicating him. He recognized the person beside him as well, though it took him a moment longer given her uncharacteristically fussy dress, all blue ribbons and frills with a skirt so wide Hux wondered how she had ever made it past the door.

 “Phasma?” Hux blurted out, unsure whether to be more surprised at her presence or her appearance. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same.” she said with her usual hauter, but there was an underlying worry to her voice that betrayed just how shaken she had been by her last encounter with Hux. “You disappeared off the face of the Earth!”

Before Hux could respond, the Queen stepped forward. It was all it took for all eyes in the room to be drawn to her.  “Lord Hux made some unfortunate choices in associations,” she said cooly, “and nearly paid the price for it.” She gave Phasma a scrutinizing gaze, though her tone remained almost eerily polite. “From my understanding, you are guilty of similar mistakes.”

Phasma inclined her head. “My Queen. I have been remiss in my greetings. I am Lady Phasma of Coruscounty” she said, bowing in a deep curtsy. “Despite the circumstance, it is an honor to be in your presence.”

There was much defiance in that gesture that stemmed from evasiveness and put-upon sincerity. The Queen was not fooled in the least.

“Is it?” she asked wryly, raising an eyebrow. “I have under good authority that you are not my greatest admirer.”

“To be critical of a figurehead is no crime,” Mitaka intervened, bristling on Phasma’s behalf.

“Treason, however, is,” the Queen replied evenly. “Punishable by death, in fact.”

“I have had no hand in the plot,” Phasma said, voice steady though she had tensed at the veiled threat. “There are many that would rightfully meet the executioner before me.”

Hux barely suppressed a wince.

Beside him, Kylo snarled.  He stepped forward, putting himself between Hux and Phasma as if to shield him from her implications. “You would not dare-”

Touched as he was by his intentions, Hux cut him off. “I understand you feel cornered, Lady Phasma, but please refrain from lashing out. I would hate to be sentenced to death so soon after escaping it.”

Phasma looked suitably chastised – and perhaps somewhat frightened by Ren’s outburst. It occurred to Hux that she had probably never seen Ren’s temper in person before.

“I am sorry,” she said softly. “I am glad to see you well. I fear the worst had happened to you.”

“As did I, my Lord,” Mitaka added. His expression saddened. “I could not have withstood losing another… Not so soon after Vears. To mourn you both because of the same man, I…” He swallowed. “I am simply relived he did not see fit to eliminate you back in Coruscounty.”

Ah. So Mitaka did not know the full scope of Hux’s involvement. Or perhaps he did not allow himself to consider it.

Hux ignored the Queen’s gaze upon him, and the judgement he could feel radiating off it. He knew she would not reveal his implication in Coruscounty’s destruction, not in such a public and uncontrolled setting; to do so in so blunt a manner would be cruel to Mitaka, and might cause her to lose the control she had on this confrontation.

“I certainly came close to my demise,” he replied evenly, though it took great effort to do so. Mitaka’s guilelessness was cutting. “Snoke’s influence stretches far.”

“And it has only grown greater by your doing,” the Queen snapped. She turned towards Phasma, dropping all pretense of cordiality in favor of an honest glare. “And yours. I do not care what you will say of your hand in it. Inaction is just as much a crime as a direct hand in the deed.”

Phasma inclined her head, the gesture of respect more sincere, but still defiant. “I understand. But if so in the case, then my actions now might absolve me some.”

Hux frowned. “What actions?”

“You said they needed to be stopped,” she said evenly. “I took matters in my own hands. »

The Queen was unimpressed. “You will have to be more explicit.”

Phasma raised an eyebrow at the request, then smirked. “I am going to need a foot stool,” she declared primly. Self-satisfaction was pouring out of her from every pore.

One of the more reactive guards complied with her wishes. With exaggerated deliberateness, Phasma lifted her leg to rest her right foot upon the flat surface. The largeness of her skirt made the maneuver difficult, but with Mitaka’s help she managed it well enough losing her balance.

“I do hope these theatrics are leading somewhere,” the Queen said coolly.

 “Heaven knows Queen Padme Amidala dislikes dramatics,” Ren mumbled, far too loudly not to be heard.

The Queen ignored him, most likely for the sake of England’s future.

“Lord Hux requested I be explicit,” Phasma said sweetly, smirk still firmly in place.

Said smirk grew into a full-blown smile when Mitaka fell to his knees beside her. Ignoring the gasps coming from the less stoic in attendance, Hux’s valet lifted Phasma’s incredibly voluminous skirt, pushed the crinoline out of the way and slipped under the garment.

The fabric fell back over him, covering most of the Lady’s modesty but still leaving an obscene amount of leg visible. All that was visible of Mitaka were his legs, which stuck out of the cavern formed by the scrunched-up crinoline and skirt.

The Queen looked oddly nostalgic at the sight; Hux chose not to dwell on it.

“When Dopheld told me you hadn’t been seen for the past few days, I knew for certain something had befallen upon you – not a particularly difficult deduction, considering the state of you when I last saw you. It also wasn’t difficult to guess from where your troubles had come from. From there on, there were only -  Careful, Dopheld, you will rip the ribbons!”

“They have suffered worse strains, Hele- My lady,” came Mitaka’s muffled voice

“True enough. Are you managing down there?”

“I am afraid I do not have enough visibility to do this safely.” He pulled his head out from under his skirt, patting his vest as his sighed in frustration. “It would be easier if I could do away with the crinoline.”

Phasma looked up, addressing the room. “Might we have scissors, please?”

“No need. I have brought a penknife,” Mitaka replied as he pulled said object from his breast pocket. He returned to his task just as promptly.

“Such a prepared little soldier,” Phasma purred, before resuming her tale as if their little interlude hadn’t happened at all. “We had a Colonel with us that night, and well, let us just say that he is a _talker_. Pulling the desired information out of him wasn’t too difficult, especially when Dopheld did such a good job at keeping him _distracted._ ”

Ah.

So Mitaka knew, then, the full extent of Hux’s deeds. It was the only way he could have assisted Phasma in counteracting them.

It was to be expected, of course. His valet couldn’t have been kept in the dark forever. Nevertheless, Hux was unprepared from the stab of shame he felt at the knowledge.

“Well, with the way they attempted to dispose of you, the brains behind the operation, I could certainly no longer trust that I would be considered any more favorably. It was plain to see that tides were turning, and that I would soon find myself crushed by that sweeping wave less I take immediate action.”

As if on cue, Mitaka pulled himself out from under her skirt, bringing along with him most of the crinoline. He tossed the mass of wires and muslin far away from both of them. Without the support given by the undergarment, the skirt threatened to fall to the floor in a pool of excessive fabric. Phasma solved the issue by grabbing a fistful of fabric with each hand and shamelessly hiking up her skirt.

With her leg still propped up upon the chair, there was no hiding her legs now. Though once he saw what Phasma had strapped to them, he realized such was the entire point of the exercise.

Strapped to her thighs were four of the five devices Hux had built. Their form was unmistakable, a crystal shard nestled in a spherical container, with several metal branches emitting from them to give both physical support and a conduct for excessive energy. Those were the same devices that Hux had seen turn stone and metal to dust in a mere instant.

And Phasma had strapped them to her thigh.

She hadn’t even used as harness to do so. Hux’s creations were pressed against her skin through the use of garter belts, wrapped around her thigh. The bands of soft fabric were pulled tight to give some semblance of solidity to give some semblance of solidity to the montage.

Phasma had strapped the most destructive weapons known to man to her thigh with a piece of glorified ribbon.

Hux was gawking. “Those are… How?”

“With a great deal of patience and charm,” Phasma replied drily. “Will you tell me what is happening then?”

Well, there were hardly many ways to explain. “Snoke attempted to have me killed,” he said bluntly. “It did not take.”

Mitaka gasped, loudly and openly. He looked frantically towards Hux, as if he had forgotten that Hux was alive and well and needed confirmation once more. To her credit, Phasma’s composure barely faltered, a slight widening of her eyes the only sign of her shock . “I see…” she said slowly. “I am going to assume you did not deserve it.”

“He said he was a liability,” Ren said lowly. There was still an uneasy flatness to his voice whenever he spoke of Snoke; Hux’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

“A liability?” Phasma repeated, more accusatory than disbelieving. “I fail to see how. He was the most implicated in the plot, as well as – you’ll excuse me for saying so, Hux – the one whose rank had most to gain from it.”

“He didn’t say,” Ren replied. “He merely gave the order.”

Phasma closed her eyes, and let out a heavy sigh. When she opened her eyes again, they had regained a near vicious sharpness – it was the look of a soldier facing the enemy. “I never met Snoke directly, but my troopers spoke of him in the highest of regards. How disappointing to find that they were wrong.”

A laugh echoed through the hall, short and cynical, almost mocking. It took a moment for Hux to realize that it had come from the Queen, so alien was the sound of it to her character.

Yet it was indeed Queen Amidala who had laughed, who looked upon Phasma with a disdain she had so far

“Did you think him altruistic?” she asked, taking a step forward as she spoke. “That he was a benevolent ruler, who rewarded the loyal? Snoke only serves himself; to believe anything else is either willful ignorance or stupidity.”

“I did not think him foolish enough to turn against the base of his power,” Phasma replied stonily. Despite the Queen’s advance, she did not take a step back. “It is painful to admit, but I was just as deceived as the rest of us were by Snoke’s position, and-”

“You fully intended to profit from the rise a would-be tyrant!” The Queen did not yell, but it was close. Her voice was amplified by both the acoustics of the room and her own fury; Hux thought it must have been a long time brewing, but Ren’s still fragile return had prevented her from voicing it as she would have.  “Thousands of deaths, and you would have been perfectly content with them so long as your own gain was secure! How _dare_ you claim shock, or ignorance! How _dare you_ claim to have been duped?! _How dare you?_ ”

Phasma endured the tirade with remarkable stoicism. “You misunderstand me, my Queen,” she answered calmly, though the steel to her voice granted her an edge of defiance. “I do not support Snoke; I support the military.” She lifted her chin. “If Snoke would so easily discard one of its better minds, then Snoke is not a man I wish in a position of power.”

The Queen did not respond immediately. Her breathing was heavy as she took in both Phasma’s reply and her countenance, which was most likely not nearly as remorseful as the Queen would have liked. Nevertheless, Hux knew Phasma was honest, and could sense that the Queen felt it as well. Had he been in her stead, such a thing would not have been relevant to Hux, but Padme Amidala was a kinder person than he was.

However, she was not a fool.

“You will not be returning to your estate,” she said. When Phasma opened her mouth to protest, she silenced her with a furious gaze. “I cannot simply trust your word, not now, not with so much at stake. Lord Hux has already stretched my clemency, but the wound on his side marks him firmly as Snoke’s enemy. You, however... I will take it as a sign of good faith if you comply with my demands. You will remain here. My servants shall provide necessary garments, and when this mess is resolved your fate will be determined by your collaboration during the fallout.” Her eyes narrowed. “And you will count yourself fortunate for the chance to walk away from your misdeeds. Are we understood?”

Phasma inclined her head. “Perfectly.”

“And you, Lord Hux,” the Queen added, turning towards him to give him a furious stare of her own. “You had a hand on creating this mess. You will do your utmost to fix it.”

“What is there to handle?” Phasma said with a frown. “I have collected all of Hux’s weapons.”

Hux shook his head. “The fifth device is missing. The central ignition.”

“Fifth one? Hux, my troopers never mentioned anything of the sort. I would have collected it otherwise!”

Hux suspected as much. “Snoke didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell them,” he said tiredly. “None of them cared to learn how the devices worked, and I was not about to relinquish an advantage.”

In hindsight, it was an obvious mistake, but Hux had been too confident in his infallibility and irreplaceability to realize it.

Ren turned towards him. “What does it matter? Dismantle them! Then he will have nothing to activate.”

“That fifth device is the basis for all others,” Hux explained. “He could copy the schematics, engineer as many as he likes. Phasma’s intervention delayed him, but it did not stop him in full.”

“Well, it is better than nothing,” the Queen declared. “At the very least, it is a momentum we need to keep. We will need to act fast.”

“Why not arrest him?” Mitaka asked. He sounded sheepish, barely daring to look the Queen in the eye as he addressed her. “We have more than enough evidence of conspiracy.”

“Arrest him with what power?” The Queen retorted bitterly. “Most of the army has sided with him, and there is as of yet no solid evidence. Even if you would be willing to implicate yourselves,” she said pointedly, looking at Phasma, Hux and Ren in turn, “it would not suffice. Tens of testimonies would be necessary, and evidence of both means and motive. Snoke has already stolen all your work, Lord Hux. The schematics are the sole tangible proof we have, and even that is reliant on knowledge of the Force. If I argue that Snoke intended to work through some mystique powers, I would be thought mad.”

“Evidence?” Hux repeated, aghast. “You are concerning yourself with _evidence?_ Is that what has been holding you back all this time?! That sort of weakness is what led you to exile in the first place!”

The Queen drew herself up sharply, and Hux realized belatedly that his outburst was far to disrespectful even by his standards. The Queen had already been incredibly tolerant of his thinly-veiled defiance, no doubt out of concern for her grandson’s allegiance.

However, she once again displayed far more restraint than he would have expected. She stared at him for one silent beat, marking her displeasure and worn-out patience both. “No,” she argued, eyes narrowing. “What led to my exile were Lord Windu and his men attempting to apprehend Palpatine without evidence or popular support, making it all too easy for Palpatine to claim a coup! I will not repeat the same mistake!”

“The mistake was failing to succeed in their appointed task! If you have any confidence in your men, then there will be no such problem for us!”

“I will not send men loyal to me to fight against something they are not aware of or equipped against! It would be akin to sending them to the slaughterhouse!”

“It doesn’t matter. With enough numbers, Snoke will be overwhelmed and-”

“My subjects are not mere numbers!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ren cut in quietly. “An army would not work. Snoke could stop ten of them with his mind alone if he needed to.” There was little admiration in his tone, only pure factuality, to Hux’s relief. “More numbers would only give him more advanced warning of our arrival.”

His declaration was met with silence, as everyone in attendance took in Ren’s words, with confusion, for Mitaka and Phasma, with gravity for Amidala and Hux. In the privacy of his own mind, Hux would readily admit that it was also with no small amount of dread.

Indeed, Ren had often said that Snoke was powerful; nevertheless, Hux had had difficulty conceptualizing the old man’s strength. To hear Ren so plainly and so certainly state the prowess Snoke was capable of was both sobering and chilling.

“No matter what we dismiss as impossibilities, we still need that device back,” Hux said aloud, hoping the calm of his voice would be enough to fool himself into confidence. “And to kill Snoke, for good measure.”

Ren stiffened at that. It was barely noticeable, so much so that Hux would have missed it had he not been standing right beside him. Fearful that drawing attention to the fact would only worsen Ren’s reticence, Hux pretended not to notice.

“Benjamin,” the Queen said softly. Hux thought for a moment she might call out what he had not dared to, but instead she simply turned beseeching eyes towards her grandson. “If Snoke is truly so powerful in the Force, then only one of us has the chance to stand against him and succeed.”

Ren swallowed heavily. He met his grandmother’s gaze with eyes that were slightly too wide, slightly too glassy.

“I am under no illusion that all the ill-will and resentment you bear against your family has faded; I only ask that you search your feelings. Think on what you truly want,” she added. Ren looked at Hux for one furtive second, then back to the Queen as she continued. “Think on what you are willing to sacrifice. And make your decision in that knowledge.”

Still, Ren said nothing, though he nodded once in a stiff, painfully slow manner. That he hadn’t denied it proved that he knew what had to be done, yet he still hadn’t been able to come to terms with it. It could very well be weeks, maybe months, before he reached that point.

But Hux couldn’t afford to wait so long. For the sake of all here, Snoke had to die.

“Ren,” Hux called. He kept his voice level when Ren turned towards him, infused it with as much authority as he was able. “He already made you chose.”

Hux heard himself speak in the same way he would speak to timid cadets, and indeed, Ren’s reaction was very similar. Hux could see Ren’s spine straighten, see Ren take a sharp breath as Hux’s words settled in his mind, and with them a sole, inescapable answer.

On a subordinate, it would have been a perfect reaction.

Hux felt midly nauseous.

“I’ll go,” Ren said, his voice breaking into a slight croak. He shook his head, and when he looked at Hux once again his voice was much steadier, if somewhat strained from his efforts to prove his earnesty. “Of course, I’ll go.” 

Hux nodded once. By all rights, he should be relieved at Ren’s newfound resolve. It was what he had hoped for. And yet.

“You needn’t do this alone, of course,” he said, without truly thinking. He didn’t know if he meant it as a reassurance, or an apology, or anything at all really. “I can…”

“No, you cannot be there,” Ren cut him off. “You can’t shield yourself from Snoke. You would be powerless against him.”

It was true. Hux knew it. Yet to hear Ren say as much sent a sharp of cold dread in his heart.

“There is strength in numbers,” the Queen argued. “If Hux would prove a distraction to you, I can assemble a team of volunteers to-”

“No,” Ren cut her off sharply. His scowl was dark enough to avoid being labeled as petulance, but his hunched shoulders gave him a far more defensive stance than he had moments prior. “No one.”

“Benjamin,” she started in a reasonable tone, “you need to-”

“I _need_ nothing,” Ren hissed back. “I certainly do not need to bear the consequences of your mistrust.” When the Queen opened her mouth to protest, his expression darkened further still. “Do not deny it, I will not believe you.”

Despite himself, Hux took a step forward, raising his hand before dropping it ineffectually. “Ren…

Ren turned towards him, and his frustration dissolved into a familiar melancholy. His shoulders dropped. “I am not so weak willed as you believe, Hux,” he murmured.

Hux wished to deny Ren’s assumptions. He wished to reassure Ren of his utmost faith and confidence even as he sent him to kill Hux’s enemy.

He couldn’t. Not fully.

The uncomfortable, nauseous feeling that twisted his guts and stabbed at his heart only grew stronger.

It was caution in the face of Ren’s fragile state, he told himself. Necessary pessimism in the face of an adversary, he argued. Yet the words that left his mouth were not the calm, strategic consideration they pretended to be, but a frantic struggle against an enemy he did not even know the nature of. “You said yourself that Snoke was more powerful than you. If you go there with no support, how can you be sure he will not overpower you just as easily?”

“I’ll take him by surprise. I can do that,” Ren replied, then paused. He seemed startled by his own words, but as he repeated them he tasted them on his tongue, and seemed to enjoy the weight of them. “I can, yes. I… I never resisted him before, or defied him. Even when I chose to save you, I could only bring myself to formulate the thought after I left his presence. He will not expect my… treason.” He flinched as he spoke the word, and quickly carried on, speaking louder in hopes of hiding his moment’s hesitation. “It will only take a moment. It is better this way. We’ve already said small numbers would be to our advantage. And you cannot be there, Hux. He wants you dead; you _cannot_ be there.”

 _No,_ Hux wished to argue. _No, this is not right, it mustn’t happen this way_

But he did not let the words escape his lips, not this time. He could not rationalize them, could not anchor them in a cold logic that might give them some legitimacy. It troubled him greatly.

He had never let sentiment get in the way of strategy and success before. He could not let himself start now; it would kill them.

This was… This was merely stressful days taking their toll. He could move past this.

“Of course,” he forced himself to say, proud when his voice barely shook. “That is the wiser course of action.”

 Ren’s shoulders visibly sagged at that, Hux’s approval having far too great an impact on his mood. “I will not fail you Hux,” he swore, with devout fervor. “I promise.”

Hux swallowed. Instead of relief or satisfaction, all he felt was unease at the near desperation with which Ren spoke – not so different than the way Ren would speak to Snoke, though perhaps a little less awestruck, a little more anguished…

“Yes,” Hux said too loudly for the sake of shutting out his own thoughts. He took a deep breath, then repeated with a too emphatic nod: “Yes, I believe you won’t.”

“There is no point in delaying,” Ren continued hurriedly. There was a sense that he was forcing himself to speak, less he lose the nerve to do it at all. “I will request an audience with him at the New Imperium tomorrow. I need to return to my manor however; it would not do for the missive I send to be traced back here.”

“Indeed, time is of the essence,” the Queen intervened; Hux quickly focused his attention onto her, to best avoid witnessing Ren’s reaction any longer. “Snoke is but one man; his defeat will not suffice if we leave his network intact for another to take over. Hux and Benjamin are not the only men capable of ambition, or leadership.”

“If I may, your majesty, why did you not intervene before?” Phasma asked. She spoke with far more manners and reverence than Hux had ever heard, no doubt in an effort to put herself in the Queen’s good graces. Perhaps she even sought to distance herself from Hux’s tenser demeanor.

The raised eyebrow the Queen granted her showed that she had noticed, but she did not comment on it. “Because before, we did not have access to the leader of it all. Now we can cut of the Hydra’s head and burn its body in the same moment.” She glanced towards Hux and Ren, before closing her eyes once as she came to a silent decision. “Come with me, you two,” she said, gesturing towards Phasma and Mitaka. “I will show you to your rooms.”

It was an unsubtle pretext to grant Hux and Ren a moment alone; Hux could not say if the opportunity made him feel grateful or ill.  The Queen seemed to notice, giving Hux a scrutinizing look. “You may join us after you say your goodbyes,” she said evenly. “Should you find we have anything to discuss.”

With that, she walked away, Phasma and Mitaka in tow. Hux and Ren were left behind, both standing in a room filled with lush sofas, both dressed in dark tones among the cream-colored walls. They looked so out of place.

Hux felt that way, at least. In the depths of his heart, he could acknowledge that the impression had little to do with his surroundings; rather, he felt ill at ease within his own self, his thoughts and feelings refusing to align themselves with what he wished them to be.

Ren was standing before him, waiting for Hux to speak first. Hux knew very well that Ren could wait an eternity for Hux to speak; it was the least Hux could do to release him from that purgatory, but despite himself he could not articulate anything he might wish to say.

 _You needn’t leave right away,_ Hux’s mind supplied. But again, it was only weakness talking, irrationality. It did not warrant being voiced.

“Well, good luck Ren,” he said instead, forcing his words to crisp clarity despite the tightness of his throat. “If you make use of the power I have seen you display, then all should go fairly well.”

Ren did not move, not right away.

“Do you hate me for it?” he asked quietly. “My power, that is.”

Hux startled, then forced himself into stillness. “Of course not. Especially not now; it will serve us well.”

Ren nodded once. He did not smile, or perhaps he did and it was too faint for Hux to see. He stepped forward, cupping both of Hux’s cheeks in his hands before leaning forward to kiss him. It was a light kiss, as faint as his might-have-been smile; for a macabre moment, Hux felt as if he were embracing nothing but Ren’s ghost.

“Goodbye, Hux,” Ren whispered.

Hux nearly whimpered when Ren’s hands pulled away, and Ren turned towards the door to leave.

_Please, stay._

This time, Hux did nothing to stifle the thought. He let it whisper, meek and timid, let it echo in the cavity of his chest, half-hoping Ren would overhear.

But Ren, ever true to his promise, respected the boundaries of Hux’s mind. And that small, secret thought, stifled by years of repressed sentimentality and cold-hearted pragmatism, was too weak and too fragile to cross the distance and project itself into Ren’s mind instead.

And so that thought stayed within Hux, burying itself into his heart, until the wound it left in its wake was a both deep and constant pain. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over 100K!!! And for the final chapter too!!! After this, it's an epilogue chapter, and the conclusion of the longest fic I have ever written!!
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me all this way. Thank you to those who commented, and left kudos.  
> And once again, a very special thanks to GenerallyHuxurious for their amazing art and patience, and to Moussiesshi for their similarly saint like patience, as well as devotion in protecting the English language from my travesties.

Ren had left the evening prior. The Queen had given the word to her daughter, and through her would have Snoke’s web brought down.

Hux, meanwhile, merely waited. On the balcony of Naboo Gardens, he sat on a chair still damp from morning dew, and he waited. It was all he could do at this point.

The inaction chafed at him far more than he expected it to. When he had been a lower officer Hux had never relished the opportunity to lead the charge; instead, he had looked forward to the day when his position would allow him to remain in the backlines and focus exclusively on strategy. A sharp mind was not to be wasted as cannon fodder.

In the current circumstances, it made even less sense for him to go out. Ren would surely be hindered by his presence more than anything else, and Hux would be of no help at all. He had seen firsthand the power of Force users, it was enough to quell the would be heroic, foolish impulses of any man – and Hux had always been wiser than self-sacrifice.

This was the most logical course of action. He knew that.

So why did it feel so terribly _wrong?_

With a sigh, he let his head fall back, and exhaled slowly. His breath turned to mist in the winter air, and he watched as it spread like cigar smoke before vanishing into the world once more.

The wind blew against his face, transforming light chill into biting cold. Hux welcomed the sensation, for at least the sharp sting could serve as a distraction from his own muddled, meandering thoughts.

There might be some peace to be found here, Hux thought. Alone in the cold.

 “There you are,” a familiar, unwelcome voice called out. “You are a hard man to find.”

Hux closed his eyes, irritated but not surprised.

Phasma made her way around the chair, Mitaka behind her – Hux’s valet acted as her shadow these days. Both of them were dressed for the outdoors, a fact that rather went against their claim to have not known precisely where he was.

“You are brooding,” she continued. She settled into a chair that Mitaka had pulled up, whilst Mitaka himself remained standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder. She reached up to squeeze it in thanks.

“I am _thinking_ ,” Hux said pointedly, irritated despite himself by their display of intimacy. “That practice usually requires being alone.”

“ _Thinking_ are you?” she drawled. “Whatever about?”

Hux tightened his lips. He would not give her the satisfaction of answering, not when she knew precisely what he had been thinking about. Her keen perception and his lack of subtlety were both conspiring against him.

“Shall I bring you some tea, my Lord?” Mitaka asked. When Phasma shot him dubious look, he hastened to defend himself: “It helps him think, often times. And it cannot hurt.”

His inquiry was so filled with candor and goodwill that Hux couldn’t believe his naivete was not the beginning of some cunning ploy - though it could merely be Mitaka’s eagerness at play once more.

“You do not work here, Mitaka,” Hux answered tiredly. “And you are more prisonner than servant besides. They would not let you inside the kitchen.”

“I could still-”

“I do not want any tea,” Hux snapped. “Thank you,” he added after a moment, both to save face and to sooth the chastised expression Mitaka bore. That last part was somewhat unsettling. When had he grown so considerate of his valet’s feelings? Certainly, he had never cared so much before, had he?

Silence fell on the balcony after his outburst, uncomfortable yet welcome none the less. Hux would gladly settle for it if he could not have the silence he so wished for.

He should have known that Phasma would not let it last.

“Are you still going to pretend this isn’t about Ren?” she asked, unrepentant even when Hux turned to glare at her. “Because I must warn you, that pretense lost any hope of being convincing around the time you showed up drunk at my doorstep.”

“That was ages ago,” Hux huffed. He hated how petulant he sounded.

“In a way, you have never truly stopped being drunk ever since.”

“Ren doesn’t need me to worry about him,”

“Doesn’t he?” Her airy tone was at odds with her pointed look. “I admit, I haven’t spoken to him at length, but he seemed largely unwell yesterday.”

Hux’s heart clenched at her words. The reminder was hardly needed, as his last moments with Ren had haunted him ever since; yet to hear Phasma speak of them put them in sharp relief. “There is nothing I can do about it.”

Phasma smiled at that; the softness of it was alien to her usual demeanor, but no less sincere. “If that is true, then it is a depressing thought.”

The words cut far deeper than Hux expected them to. He felt himself recoil, his hurt mingling with confusion - the notion that the helplessness he was drowning in did not exist at all felt both preposterous and too good to be true.

Sensing as much, Phasma continued. “I would have thought that of anyone here, you would be the one best apt at helping him.”

Hux shook his head, resisting the urge to bite his lip like a child. “Not in this. This is a domain I… I have no expertise in.”

He felt the truth of those words even as he spoke them. There was no agency to be had here, not in matters of the Force, that mystical power he now knew he held no sway over; not in matter of the heart, for he had seen firsthand how ill-suited he was for them.

How he wished he were more like Ren. For all that Ren struggled with emotions, for all that he so easily fell into insecurity, hurt, or anger or a poisonous combination of the three, it was all redeemed in the strength with which he felt all else. How he felt love.

Ren loved deeply. Ren loved well – or at least, loved in a way that was perfect for Hux. He loved in a manner that brought down the walls Hux had built and soothed the wounds Hux had long forgotten he had. It was the height of injustice that Ren should have loved Hux at all, for he deserved a man who knew how to love in return, when loving demanded more than spiriting someone away at the countryside.

Hux did not know how; it was a skill he had never learned, and now that he was asked to use it, it frightened him. It had been different in the beginning, when all was new and idyllic and the world had hardly seemed real outside of the two of them. But when the world reasserted itself, when Hux found himself in need to contend with its viciousness and cruelty, Hux had been unable not to return to the coldness and ruthless plotting that had always been his tools before.  Yet no matter how desperately he tried to convince the world and himself that rational thought were his sole motivations, his heart was at the center of his every move - and it was a rotten, broken thing that would ruin all it approached.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of expertise,” Mitaka said timidly, forcing Hux out of his self-consuming thoughts.

Hux nearly hated him for it. “Well, what do you know?!” he snarled.

Mitaka snapped his mouth shut. He looked away, obviously miffed by the violent reaction but too polite to show it. Phasma had no such qualms, though her displeasure was dampened by a look of pity that Hux found even more grating.

Hux ignored them, cloaking himself in his foul mood and his still-aching spirit to block out any intent they may have towards him, good and ill.

“You often referred to Snoke’s “powers”,” Phasma said, once more taking it upon herself to break the silence; the topic she chose this time was more palatable, though barely so. “What did you mean?”

“Ask Mitaka,” Hux replied flightly. “He can explain it better than I ever could.”

Phamsa’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Mitaka’s eyes widened in understanding, and his already pale complexion turned nearly white. “Was that… what he did to me? Some trick of this… Force?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper as if he feared speaking of what had happened when Snoke intruded in Hux’s home would somehow summon the old man again.

“Yes,” Hux said, perhaps too bluntly for his valet’s delicate nature.

However, Mitaka was still a military man at heart. Though he was obviously unsettled, he still took in the information with a remarkably cool head. “Oh…” he said quietly. “Will Ren be alright?”

For a moment, Hux could not reply. Such a sentiment from Mitaka stunned him – as far as he could tell, he held very little affection for Ren. And yet he inquired after his wellbeing anyway, most likely because he knew Ren was dear to Hux.

Mitaka was a good man. Had the roles been reversed, Hux would not have cared.

Hux swallowed. “He can do much the same,” he said finally. It was not an answer to Mitaka’s question, but the truth was Hux did not know if Ren would be alright, and oh, he could not dwell on such thing!  “He stands a better chance than any of us.”

Phasma huffed. “Will either of you tell me what you are talking about?” she snapped.

Mitaka and Hux shared a look, but in the end, only one of them could give an accurate account of the Force’s nature, and its power. Phasma deserved to know, if only to take the full measure of what she had set herself against by undermining Snoke’s plans.

Hux told her everything, from the strange happenings that had surrounded Ren to Ren’s demonstration of power in his sitting room. He spoke of Ren bending Hux’s would-be-assailant to his will with untold ease. He told her that Snoke was Ren’s master, and by many accounts a man of even greater power than Ren’s already formidable might.

He found he still couldn’t linger on the incident back in Coruscounty, for the horror and powerlessness he felt then had left too deep a cut. However, he found himself insisting on Ren’s motivations, on how desperately his lover had wished to save him; it made him realize that that deep wound had begun to heal none the less.

Phasma listened without intervening once, her features impassive save for twitches at the corner of her eyes and mouth. When Hux finished his tale, she nodded once in a shaky, uncertain movement, the sole mark of shock she would allow herself. “Well, I don’t suppose you would tell me such an absurd lie. Nor do I think you mad,” she said slowly, letting herself fall back in her chair. “It is still hard to believe.”

“It is beyond us,” Hux said tonelessly. “I have seen it Phasma. There is next to nothing we can do to counter it.”

Phasma nodded again, this time more assuredly. “Is that what has you so shaken up?”

“Partially,” he replied, before sighing as he pinched his brow. “Not really. I have moved past shock, and well into futile indignation and nausea. Give me time, and I should be able to reach acceptance.”

He had thought Phasma might share his somber views. Instead, she huffed in irritation. “Were you always so prone to maudlin before?” she asked, giving him a look that showed just how little patience she had with him.  “There is no enemy that cannot be beat – those Force users would have ruled the world for millennia otherwise. Your time at the front did not garner you the reputation of a defeatist.”

“I agree with Helene,” Mitaka added, though far more gently. “You have always led us against terrible odds, with great success. We followed you without hesitation.”

Hux scoffed. “This is not something well deployed artillery will fix.”

Mitaka persisted. “You misunderstand, my Lord, it was not your strategies that made us believe in you – though that you saw us as more than mere fodder was no small consideration! However, it was your strength of character, your conviction that made us follow!” His impassioned speech was punctuated by a light flush of his cheeks; it was the most animated Hux had seen him in a long time. “Or at least, it was for me.”

The pure candor with which he spoke might have been mollifying for any other man, but for Hxu it only put him more on edge. Mitaka was a good man, perhaps, but also a naïve fool. He did not recognize how dire the situation was, did not realize what type of man Hux was. Mitaka spoke of an idealized version of Hux, and had perhaps devoted himself in the service of that same ideal.

It made Hux’s skin crawl. “Rather unwise of you,” he said through gritted teeth.

Mitaka’s hopeful expression faltered slightly at Hux’s hostile response, but he persevered. “I think not,” he said. “You did not let us down.”

“I might of,” Hux replied. There was a tightening in his chest that was growing unbearable, worsening the more Mitaka spoke.

“But you did not!”

“That isn’t the point, Mitaka! For a man of military experience, you know little of the realities of war.”

“I know you have always had our best interest at heart, and-”

“Oh, enough with your ridiculous naivete!” Hux snapped, hitting the arm of his seat with his fist. “I did not send you to the charge because I surmised it was an inefficient path to victory. I made sure you were well fed because starving soldiers make poor fighters! I kept you into my employ because you were a mediocre marksman but could at least iron a shirt! Do not read any more into my intentions than the need for a passable servant!”

Mitaka swallowed heavily; Hux could see the small tremors in his shoulders that he tried so very hard to suppress. He could not tell if they came from fright or merely shock at the vehemence of Hux’s outburst. Whatever the case, Mitaka did his best to soldier on. “You have still done right by us, when others wouldn’t. You took care of your men, even by duty alone.”

“Your friends died by my deeds,” Hux cut him off coldly. “In case you hadn’t made the association yourself.”

That silenced Mitaka. His mouth hung open, frozen on a half-formed word. He did not look enraged, or betrayed; most likely Hux’s words did not make enough sense for him to feel such a way.

He simply looked lost.

“Back in Coruscounty, the first test of my device went wrong. Almost disastrously so,” Hux added, knowing he was twisting the knife, yet unsure why he felt the need to. “The damage was controlled, if you can believe it. Casualties were still inevitable though.”

Mitaka didn’t answer. He stared at Hux, eyes wide. He was visibly being torn apart, his loyalty to Hux at odds with his affection for his friends. His lips moved, but still he did not speak; other than that, he was as still as a statue.

Hux had brought down a man with mere words. It had been a long time since Hux had made use of that skill. so much so that he thought he might have lost it. He waited for satisfaction to rise within him, as it always did in such circumstances. Instead, victory tasted bitter rather than sweet, and though that sense of accomplishment was still present, it made him feel hollow rather than fulfilled.

It was Mitaka’s fault. It had to be; the man was simply too naïve, and Hux had indulged him too long. Harsh truths were meant to be spoken.

If Hux felt wretched, well, it was no great difference from how he had been feeling for the past day.

“Why?”

Mitaka’s meek voice hit Hux with terrible strength. “Why what?” he asked, wishing for scorn but knowing he projected only defensiveness.

Mitaka’s eyes were nearly overflowing with tears. “Why do you so insist on telling me all of this?”

“That is hardly your concern,” Hux said coldly, careful to keep his face impassive less he match Mitaka’s flinch. “Remember your place, Mitaka. You are a valet; nothing more.”

Mitaka closed his eyes, and nodded once. All color had drained from his face.

“My Lord,” he said, voice shaking as he inclined his head.

He left without another word, not even closing the door behind him as he left. Hux could hear his footsteps echoing in the hall, slow and steady yet somehow revealing his urge to run away.

Phasma turned to glare at him. “Well, you have certainly achieved what you set out to do.”

Hux said nothing; he did not even meet her eye.

He had. He hadn’t. He did not know. His goal had been imprecise, nothing but an amalgamation of misery, bitterness, and the desperate need to silence Mitaka’s lenient, kind view of him, which felt like an ill-fitting, ill-earned suit.

He felt wretched, and could not bear to be made to feel anything else. He did not deserve it.

Had Phasma not been there, he might have let out a hysterical laugh at the thought. Where did all this self-hatred come from? Never before had he felt anything but the highest esteem for himself.Now everything seemed bleak, his soul was weighed down, and none of the qualities he once took pride seemed of any help.

And Ren had gone alone. That fact had buried itself in Hux’s mind, ever present and ever tormenting.

“He does ask the right questions, though. I do like that about him,” Phasma continued. Her tone demanded that she not be ignored. When Hux lifted his eyes, her features were far colder than he had ever seen them. “Could it be he hit a nerve?”

Hux grit his teeth. “Do not start, Phasma.”

“You are the one who started this, by being so mean spirited. You are lashing out, like a wounded dog. Get ahold of yourself.”

“Are you planning on staying here for long?” Hux asked in lieu of an answer. His words were too weary to possess any bite.

Phasma shook her head, rising to a stand.  “No, I think I shall go find Dopheld. His mind tends to feed his anxiety when he gets into a state.”

Hux did nothing as she turned towards the door, and began walking away. He was only mildly surprised when she stopped just short of leaving the balcony.

Phasma’s hand lingered on wall beside her. She did not turn around. “I make no illusions of what you are, Hux. I believe you and I to be cut of the same cloth. Yet I, somehow, manage to lead a much more pleasant life. Why do you think that is?”

Hux let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sure I do not know.”

“Because you, dear friend, have a remarkable tendency to both overthink and not reflect enough,” she said simply, turning her head just enough so that she could look at Hux through the corner of her eye. “So focused on telling yourself you cannot do certain things, you will forget you have done them before and can do them again.”

“Are you a mind reader now?”

Phasma shook her head. “It’s your eyes,” she said. “They are so filled with feelings, you could not hide anything if you tried.”

Hux drew a sharp breath, but Phasma was done with him. She left without another word.

For a long time, he could only stare at the spot where she once stood. White noise filled his mind, drowning out all thoughts in its cacophony.

Then everything turned quiet; it was a silence filled with both condemnation and resolve. Hux carried it with him even as he growled under his breath, and stormed out of the balcony in turn.

The halls were becoming almost familiar after a few days spent in Naboo Gardens, and with the brisk pace with which he was walking it took Hux only minutes to reach his destination, visibly marked by two guards baring entrance to a double door.

“I wish to speak to the Queen,” Hux demanded, drawing himself to his full height as he planted his feet in front of the door.

The guard to the left addressed him. “Her Majesty is occupied, and has requested not to be disturbed.”

Hux nodded once. “I see.”

He forced the door open with a shove of his shoulders.

The two guards let out a cry of dismay, and were already making a move to apprehend him.

Hux ignored them as their hands tightened around his arms, pulling him back. He looked straight at Queen Amidala, who was sitting on her couch, a book in hand. His eyes narrowed as he took in the sight; she was not busy at all, save in her efforts to distract herself from the current situation.

The Queen met his gaze without flinching. With a wave of her hand, she bid to guards to release him. They did, reluctantly, and following her next request they shut the door behind Hux, leaving him alone with the Queen.

“Do you believe Ren will succeed?” he asked. He was unashamed of his bluntness; the time for restraint and propriety had long past.

“He might,” Amidala answered, setting down the book beside her. She spoke with such remarkable calm Hux was certain it was nothing but a front.  “He certainly is the best apt for the job, given the limited pool of candidates. Snoke has often had free range of his mind, but Benjamin has assured me that it is because he chose not to deny his master entrance.”

Her words did not answer Hux’s query. As such, they did nothing to sooth the restlessness of his soul. “Do you believe Ren will succeed?” he repeated, marking each word with a pause to both convey his seriousness and prevent his voice from shaking.

Her expression turned more somber. “It will be difficult. Had his uncle been here, or even a stranger of similar abilities, I would have trusted them with this task far more readily than I would trust him. But given that there is no choice, there is little left to do than hope that his resolve will hold.”

Hux let out a choked sound. “You did not rest the future of this country on _hope_!”

“Hope is what allowed Palpatine to be brought down,” she replied, before shaking her head. “But no, you are right. My daughter’s organization is doing much of the work. And Benjamin… I think he can turn his back on Snoke fully. I even believe he has proper motivation for it. What worries me is his belief that he can.”

“He seemed certain of himself last time we spoke,” Hux replied. The objection seemed weak even to his own ears.

“For a long time, Benjamin did not know what he wanted. Or rather, he thought he did, but he was merely molding himself after what he thought he ought to be, or what Snoke wished of him. He made choice after choice in that vein, and to turn away from any chosen path is difficult.” She paused then, looking back up at Hux. Her gaze was contemplating yet focused, as if new revelations could be found in the depths of Hux’s eyes should one look hard enough. “Then again, he has grown, my grandson. He has changed, through meeting you. Through wanting something beyond the narrative he has set for himself. He may be fine. Again, there is little I can do at this stage but hope.”

Hux’s pursed his lips. “You have little faith in your own blood,” he said accusingly. Her words displeased him greatly, though in truth he could not contradict them.

The Queen lifted her chin. “Yet you are the one who intruded into my rooms in order to voice your doubts - no matter how much you try to disguise them as my own.” She did not give Hux time to recover from the blow she had just delivered, instead turning away to gesture towards the sofa in front of her. “Sit down.”

Hux looked at the offered seat, and slowly complied. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his back stiff as a board. It was all he could do not to put his hands on his lap like a timid schoolboy.

The Queen, mercifully enough, did not comment upon it. “I will gift you with the same question you asked me: do you believe Ren will succeed?”

Hux inhaled deeply.

“I must,” he said as he exhaled, the words leaving him more easily as they were carried away on a breath. “I know the thought of turning against Snoke is painful to him; I also know that he sees it must be done.” He swallowed. "He has sworn to keep me safe, and for all his contradicting impulses he has never failed to uphold a promise to me. He has even saved my life before by disobeying a direct order.”

“Yet you doubt.”

There was no defining the tone in which the Queen spoke. It might have been a mere statement, or perhaps condemnation. Perhaps even understanding, though Hux would have found it difficult to believe he would find such a thing in her.

Nevertheless, her straightforwardness was brutal, and effective; he could not hide from himself.

“He is alone with his mind, which has always one’s greatest enemy,” Hux murmured; it as all he could bring himself to say.

The Queen hummed thoughtfully, her head slightly inclined as she studied him. Hux did not shy away from her stare. There seemed little point.

“You are wiser than I was. I could have used more doubt at your age,” she finally said. When Hux frowned in confusion, she elaborated. “When Palpatine rose to power, when I went to find Anakin… I thought of many nightmarish scenarios, dreaded many outcomes. I never suspected my love would have sided with Palpatine.” She let out a sigh. “In retrospect, there were signs of his turmoil, of his darker tendencies. In my bliss, it was easy to look past them.”

“I can imagine,” Hux answered blandly. Perhaps once, he would have revelled in the recognition of his superior judgement; right now, it only made him more melancholy.

“But of course, you pride yourself in the sharpness a cold soul brings,” the Queen added almost airily. “You will not share my weakness.”

“Yes,” Hux said slowly, eyes narrowing. The change in tone and demeanor was too sudden to be genuine.

The tension in the room rose.

“So if you doubt, then I assume your doubts are firmly grounded,” the Queen added more pointedly. “You believe my grandson will fail.”

Hux recoiled. “I… I cannot know…” he said, nearly flinching at how frazzled he sounded. He clenched his jaw, and forced himself to speak at a steadier pace. “An officer can only trust that his soldiers will execute their orders as they are meant to.”

“But Benjamin is no soldier. He never had the temperament for it. Why trust him as one?”

She was baiting him. Hux knew it, yet he could not stop his palms from sweating, could not stop his heart from racing.

He felt ill. He tried not to show it, yet knew he was failing.

“And even if you could, would you trust a recently defected soldier?” the Queen continued. “I think not. That is why you are so certain he will join Snoke once more.”

Hux shook his head. “Ren wouldn’t,” he said, before adding defensively: “I do not think that!”

“Do you see? You sound so hesitant.” The Queen had never sounded as she did now: cruel, mocking, and very much like Hux. “Worry not, Lord Hux. It is merely a pragmatic point of view from a reasonable man.”

“Pragmatism has nothing to do with it!”

“Then what promise do you have that he will not falter?”

“Because I know him!” Hux bellowed, his anger carrying him to his feet until he towered over the Queen. “All of him! I care not what happened between you and your husband, but if you were surprised by the violence within him then it is nothing but your own willful blindness! Or perhaps Vader was skilled at hiding the less savory parts of himself.  But Ren…” His voice died down into a croak. “Ren can hide nothing.”

He let out a shaky breath. The more he spoke, the more his anger left him, replaced by a different kind of passion. It was a foreign sentiment, made from the ache in his heart and the warmth in his chest, the source of the words flowing out of his mouth, surprising him even as he spoke.

“I have seen him, all of him, and his darkest and most selfish. He knows it, and he loves me dearly! Were we strangers, I have no doubt Ren would be capable of squeezing the breath out of my lungs himself! But he loves me! That is promise enough.” He felt tears welling into his eyes, though none of them fell. “Ren has never betrayed a promise to me before! He nearly drove himself to misery over a dream that he had failed me. I trust him fully, and I…” He inhaled sharply then, feeling short of breath as if he had been punched in the stomach, or caught mid sob. The words he wished to speak were too big, too crushing for a man as weakly built as he was. He could not summon them; he was still unsure he even fully understood them. 

“I do not want Ren to be alone,” he said finally.

It was a pale approximation of his true intent, but it was true none the less. And it was a truth that asserted itself all the more once voiced. “He shouldn’t be alone. Not in this,” he said more assuredly, though his voice was barely above a whisper. He turned towards the Queen. “He shouldn’t face that demon alone.”

“It is a foolish thought, coming from you,” the Queen said quietly. There was little judgement in her voice though. Hux might even say it was the kindest he had ever heard, coming from her.

“Yes,” Hux murmured.

She nodded sadly. “Love makes a fool of us all.”

Hux could not answer. He looked away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Queen rise from her seat. She smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt with her hands, though it seemed more of a stalling gesture than anything else. Once done, she approached him slowly, making no sound; yet her presence alone demanded that he meet her gaze.

She stood before him, gaze steady, eyes gentle though they still held little affection for him.

“You said I saw you clearly. I thought the same,” she said. “Perhaps we would both benefit from a second look.”

Hux looked at her, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

She made a thoughtful sound, before speaking each word with deliberate slowness, as if reasoning her way through a problem. “A pragmatic officer does not worry about the fate of his soldier. A man made solely of ambition does not plan romantic getaways – Benjamin told me of it. I believe he was near delirious with fatigue, keeping vigil for you; he barely knew what he was saying.” She carried on. “An opportunistic, cold-hearted manipulator who would use anyone to climb to the top… well, it is plain to see the influence you have over Benjamin, yet you have made surprising little use of it.”

Her words had all the bearings of a final judgement, one that seemed both absolute and merciful, and spoken with such bone-deep certainty that it was unquestionable. The Queen was speaking, and for that one moment Hux had no doubt she had always been much wiser than him. “You are not a good man, Hux. We would be remiss in forgetting that. But perhaps you might heave yourself to a position of mediocre morality; I would consider it a vast improvement.”

In the immediate aftermath of her speech, Hux was left speechless. Until he laughed, low and mirthless, a far more self-deprecating and fatalistic sound than he ever thought he would direct towards himself. “Does it matter?”

“I couldn’t say,” she answered. “You tell me.”

Hux turned away. “This doesn’t help us,” he mumbled. He clutched his hand behind his back, gripping his wrist to keep them from shaking.

He heard her sigh, and once again was compelled to look at her. The glow that had possessed her moments before had faded away, replaced by a weariness that matched his own. Or not quite, for hers had the weight of years behind it, which brought with them, if not peace, then at least a sad form of acceptance.

“I do not know what the best course of action is,” she confessed. “I do not know if it was best to let Ben go out on his own, or force upon him support that he would ignore – or even endanger. Even some with abilities that he… I do not know if it we are striking fast or if we are merely rushing in. I do not know how events will play out – I can only hope that my faith is not misplaced. Had I possessed the same foresight that is bestowed upon Force users, we would not be here.”

Hux swallowed. “Is there a point to this?”

The Queen met his sullen glare with a resolute expression. “The point is that though we try our best, we can never escape the possibility of weakness, or defeat. Or heartbreak.” Despite her gloom words, she raised her chin. “But I do not regret going to find Anakin, all those years ago. I do not regret giving him my love until the end. I could never.”

She stepped forward then, reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Hux startled at the sensation of it, even more so when she gave a light squeeze. There were worlds of strength in her frail fingers, and a warmth that went far beyond the mere temperature of her skin.

She left before Hux could say another word.

The phantom weight of her hand lingered long after her departure. Hux instinctively reached up to it, his brows furrowed as his fingertips traced nothing but cloth.

Everything was phantom weights, in the end, or unspoken words, or aborted gestures; it was nothing but a miserable fog, smothering him and drowning him into inertia until it led to his ruin.

Or perhaps the ruin came from within. He so direly wished to match the affection Ren so easily gave him, even wishing it he found he could not. The shame and fear he had felt when Ren saved him in Coruscounty still lingered, the words he had wished to speak as Ren walked away still did not come.

 _Uncertain, weak-willed man,_ said a voice in his mind, which sounded like his father and himself both. _You are useless, as you always have been. Is this the man that led the army into battle? Is this the Tsar-killer?_

But this was no army, Hux thought desperately. This was no common war!

And then he stilled.

This was no common war. Hux had never doubted so much in way, had never feared so much. Had never felt so much, so painfully, and though he was ill equipped to deal with such matters, he should have known better than to apply his usual tactics to them.

Ren was no soldier, no pawn to be moved. Ren went far beyond whatever strategies or plans Hux might have made, and using reason when it came to him had never done Hux any favors. No, this was a matter of the small, broken thing that lied in Hux’s chest. That tainted thing that so easily filled with fear and scorn, was all that could guide him, and it screamed its will.

To stay in the backlines was the wise, the self-preserving decision. He could not abide it.

“Dammit all to hell,” he muttered to himself. “What sort of ruin have your brought upon me Ren?”

Yet when he rushed out of the room, his steps were more assured than they had been in a long time, and when he breathed. the air finally fully filled his lungs. Uncertainty still nipped at his heart, bringing with it self-doubt and fear. Yet despite all that there was one certainty that eclipsed all of it

He did not have the Force, but he had Ren. More importantly, Ren had him.

And he should never have given him any cause to doubt it.

He did not even bother returning to his room to fetch his coat. Time was of the essence.

He would simply have to brave London’s muddied, snowed streets without an overcoat.

Halfway through his exit, he contemplated if the guards would let him pass. The Queen had given him her indirect blessing, in a way, but for all that he knew her guards had not been notified. He had managed to overpower the one guarding her sitting room through the element of surprise, but he would not have that advantage with the soldiers stationed at the gate.

His musings were interrupted by a familiar, irritating voice calling for him.

“Lord Hux!” a high-pitched, prim voiced call from behind him.

Hux paused halfway through the door, turning around to sneer at Treepio. “What is it?!”

To his credit, the butler did not seem fazed, or at the very least no more flustured than usual.“Are you leaving?”

Hux merely stared at him, lips tight.

Treepio swallowed, and continued valiantly. He presented a box held tightly in his hands, knucles white from the strength of his grip. “I, well…  I can see that you are. The Queen gave out instructions you see.”

Hux frowned. “Instructions?”

In lieu of an answer, Treepio opened the box. Hux’s pistol sat in the middle, polished and clean, with a red leather pouch laying beside it.

Hux picked it up gingerly, eyeing Treepio as he did. The butler made no move to stop him, and continued to speak as Hux inspected his weapon to ascertain himself that it had not been tampered with.

“Unloaded, as of yet. The bullets are in the pouch. You may load them once you are at a distance. Should you get any ideas of aiming the barrel beforehand…” The thin, blustering man raised his chin. “Well, I have fought for the Rebellion, in my youth.”

Hux did not answer. He picked up the pouch, feeling the weight of the bullets within it, and pocketed it.

He had to revise his previous statement. The Queen may be naive, but foolish she was not.

“The Queen also stressed the value of reinforcements. Though most of her agents have already been deployed, there are still some that can be found if you wish to bring them with you.”

Hux looked up sharply. “How long?”

Mr.Treepio looked almost startled at that, obviously having expected Hux to carry on with his silence. “Well, given our current location, and the necessary delay to assemble to a meeting point… No more than an hour.

“I see,” Hux said blandly.

He turned on his heels and walked out. Once he was at a respectable distance, he launched himself into an very unseemly jog to the main road.

An hour! He had not an hour to spare, he needed to reach Ren in half of that!

What use would reinforcements be to him anyway? He needed to discreetly reach Ren’s home before his love left to face his master; a crowd would only hinder his efforts. Even if he managed to reach his destination with a crowd following him, Ren would never agree to making use of the added manpower. Hux would not be able to convince him, and were he to send them out to Snoke without Ren’s knowledge, they would most certainly die in the process, which...

Well, Hux had acquired a distaste for the idea.

He found a coach with surprising ease, given Naboo Garden’s location, which was not brimming with people at the best of times. Then again, Hux reasoned, the entire area could hardly be considered remote – a mere ten minutes away of London at best. It would take no more than half an hour to Ren’s home; so early in the morning, there was more than enough time to intercept him before he went to face Snoke alone.

In the meantime, he carefully loaded his gun, noticing with grim pleasure that it had been well-taken care of whilst it had been confiscated. Once done, he pocketed it in his inside pocket.

The decision proved most wise when his coach came to a violent halt, nearly sending him flying onto the opposite seat.

Hux stumbled to a stand, barely catching himself with his hands before he landed face first on the sharp wooden corner.

 _Perhaps that back-up would have had some use after all,_ Hux thought bitterly. He should have planned for an ambush, rather than blindly trust Ren’s words that he was believed to be dead by Snoke and his men.

Ren really had a talent for coaxing out the very worst of his rational mind.

The coach door opened, and in stepped the Major General, gun in hand. It was the first time Hux had seen him in many months; after the man had given him access to the _New Imperium_ , Hux had promptly left him behind in favor of Ren and better ambitions. To see him now was nearly a ludicrous sight, an aberration from the past that should never have held any lingering importance.

Hux let out a short, quite hysterical chuckle even as he was held at gunpoint.

“There is nothing humorous in your situation, Hux,” the Major General sniffed, all hurt pride and ill-founded confidence.

“Of course not, Major General,” Hux replied, settling himself back in his seat. His tone was far more irreverent than was cautious, but as he eyed the man in front of him, he could feel only scorn. “Have you recently been demoted, to be doing such grunt work?”

The Major General sneered in response, puffing up his chest in a manner that was too exaggerated to be genuine. “I have been tasked with bringing in a traitor. It is a sign of trust.”

 _Or perhaps a sign that Snoke’s ressources have already been compromised,_ Hux thought, but it was too tentative a hope to linger on.

The rest of the ride was conducted in tense silence, as Hux refused to acknowledge the man before him or the gun trained upon him any more than he already had.

When he was forcefully shoved out of the coach, it was no surprise to find the _New Imperium_ before him, somehow far more ominous than he had ever seen it before. In front of the entrance waited the doorman, whose features matched the unsettling placidness that Hux had witnessed on Mitaka’s features a few days ago. Snoke’s handiwork, no doubt.

The doorman also had a gun in his hand. Both weapons were discreetly pointed at Hux, just enough not to draw unwanted attention whilst still giving Hux no time to draw his own pistol should a confrontation begin.

Hux grit his teeth.

He had been outmaneuvered. _Again._

Had Snoke engineered this encounter from the beginning?

He was walked up the stairs at gunpoint. He did his best to keep his head high, even as the Major General proved far more violent in his manhandling than necessary. Hux met his roughness with a sneer, recognizing in it the posturing of a weak animal.

When he reached the very top floor, he was pushed into the same room he had grown intimately familiar with over the past few months. However, it looked much different when emptied of all conspirators. Far bigger, yet also far less grand. Without the legions of men worshiping the shrine to the past, it reclaimed the air of a half-decrepit room in a lounge far past its prime.

However, when Hux turned he was finally faced with Snoke. The old man was sitting in the far end of the room, away from the large table where most meetings took place. His place was removed from all that, sitting in a seat so large and lavish it resembled a throne. He should have looked dwarfed by it, but his presence alone compensated for his frame, as usual. The bust of dead, irrelevant men surrounded him like a guard and a jury, glaring at Hux with silent judgement.

Hux stood his ground, facing these men whom he had once thought to both emulate and surpass. He did not look away, not even when the Major General closed the door behind them, leaving the two men alone in their confrontation. 

“Lord Hux,” Snoke greeted, his voice a rasp filled with dark humor. “So kind of you to join me.”

“The invitation was forceful,” Hux said through gritted teeth. His eyes flickered away just a moment, narrowing as they landed on the small table near Snoke’s left hand.

The final device, the central piece to the _Dreadstar,_ laid upon it. It looked so unassuming, like an elaborate paperweight, yet Hux recognized its presence as the taunt that it was.

“Yes,” Snoke said with a grin, moving his hand to rest it possessively upon the _Dreadstar_. “When my apprentice requested an audience, I thought it was to seek guidance in the face of his grief from killing you. The Force whispered otherwise to me.” He let out a scornful laugh. “He was a fool to bring you to his grandmother. Padme Amidala is too bright in the Force, too easily found. Were he any adept at meditation, he would have known that.”

Hux lifted his chin. “Perhaps I might request a more private audience,” he said evenly, glancing at the escort Snoke had seen fit to impose him with.

Snoke smiled indulgently, and waved his hand in the air. Wordlessly, the two men left the room, closing the door behind them. They did not lock it behind them, which was nothing more than another sign of Snoke’s confidence.

“Were you in my mind?” Hux demanded as soon as the door was shut. Best take the lead on this confrontation, lest he soon find himself on the defensive. “Are you the reason I have decided to leave the Queen’s residence?”

Though he did his best to hide it, the thought chilled him. He had only the vaguest notions of Snoke’s power, or of its scope. That uncertainty was a prime breeding ground for frightening thoughts. Was the decision he had so painfully reached earlier that day nothing but the fruit of dark workings on his soul? Was his surrender to his emotional instincts rather than reason nothing but the manipulation of the man before him?

Snoke scoffed, as if the very notion was contempt worthy. “Why would I need to be within that mind of yours? Angry curs are so easily predictable. You think so little of others you can hardly bare not overseeing every step of your ambition. And now, you prove me right.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did you not find my apprentice a trustworthy servant?”

Hux said nothing, forcing himself to remain impassive. He would not rise to such obvious bait. Instead, he focused on the small reassurance the words brought. Though he could never trust Snoke’s word, he more than trusted the man’s ego. He could have easily intimidated Hux by picking out every thought in his mind; that he hadn’t out of an absolute sense of superiority was a believable alternative.

A sense of superiority that was not unwarranted, Hux thought bitterly. How easily Snoke has brought him here, after all.

“Indeed, he lacks conviction,” Snoke continued, unperturbed. “That you stand here proves as much.”

Hux allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction. “You underestimated his affection for me.”

Snoke tutted. “No, I did not. He is hardly subtle, my apprentice, and could not hide from me something he so delighted in. His entire being screamed with it. I merely underestimated his resolve to do what must be done.” He sighed dramatically. “Vader he is not. He lacks the strength needed to cut himself from such unnecessary attachments.”

Even now, Snoke had not lost the aura of amusement that oozed out of him. It was both insulting and unnerving, though Hux did his best to ward off both reactions. Neither would serve him well here.

But oh, how he wished to rip out the old man’s tongue whenever he dared say Ren’s name!

“I would argue the contrary,” Hux said coldly. His gun felt heavy in his hand, yet warm as he tightened his grip around it. “He knows exactly which attachments to cut off. We both do.”

Snoked glanced at his weapon, before granting Hux a look of disdainful amusement. “Arrogant,” he spat out. “Do you truly believe that is what is happening? That Ren and you will slay me, and walk away unscathed?”

“You tried to have me killed because Ren deserted you for me,” Hux replied, lifting his chin. “You think me a threat.”

Once again, Snoke smiled, more amused than anything else. The look he gave Hux was akin to that of an adult humoring a young child. “I attempted to have you killed because you proved to be too much of a distraction.” He leaned back in his chair, humming thoughtfully. “When he asked that you be brought into our fold, that I allow him to use his abilities to force the military officers into acceptance, his infatuation was clear. Oh, he invoked your engineering skills, as well as your shrewd tactics, but I knew better. I had considered refusing. He would have complied with my wishes, as he had countless times before. But then I thought: why create an idol for him to crave from afar? Best allow the indulgence, and have him tire of it on his own. You are hardly more personable than the whores and drinks he used to lose himself in, and, I imagine, far cheaper.”

Despite everything, the insult stung. Snoke had managed to infuse his every word with contempt and ridicule, both weapons Hux had been stabbed with far too many times not to be sensitive to their blows. How he cursed himself for it, cursed his childhood hurts for rearing their head even now!

But no, he would not let himself be so easily brought down. He would not let a few words from this despicable man ruin the months he had had with Ren or his resolve to see his lover safe.

“But he did not tire of me. And he did not kill me,” he argued back. “He disobeyed a direct order from you. He would not have done that for a mere distraction. You were wrong.”

“True. I was,” Snoke admitted with little hardship. It seemed the thought hardly chafed at all. He leaned back into his chair, his smile turning almost conspiratorial, as if both he and Hux shared a secret. “Kylo Ren loves you,” he stated, the words oily and unpleasant when coming from his tongue. “He believes you love him back.”

Hux’s breath hitched.

Snoke’s implication was clear, but Hux could still not make sense of it. Why would Snoke say such a thing? Was it merely a trick, or did he truly believe that Hux did not… But why would he…

“You did not tell him otherwise?” Hux asked, barely managing to speak over the white noise ringing in his ears. He barely had enough wits about him not to directly contradict Snoke, not until Hux knew exactly what game he was playing.

 _Why should it be a game?_ That familiar, hated voice hissed in his mind. _What reason have you ever had to believe yourself capable of love? You who spoke of devotion, and then had nothing but bile and coldness for the man you claimed to hold dear? Why should Snoke believe you love Ren, when you have so readily sent Ren to die in your unworthy name?_

It was all Hux could do not to close his eyes to hide from the accusations he knew not how to refute.

Snoke shrugged. “It was unnecessary. I fully expected you to reveal the truth on your own. You are not a man who can feign tender sentiments; they are unnatural to you.”

The pain of his fingernails digging into his palm was all that kept Hux from showing any reaction. Were it not for them, he would have winced openly, for Snoke’s words echoed those in Hux’s mind, and rung just as true.

“And you counted on Ren’s heartbreak to manipulate him further under?” Hux asked, fleeing from himself with that question.

Snoke cocked his head to the side. “Is that not what you would have done?”

Hux swallowed.

He knew exactly what he would have done, in Snoke’s stead. He would not have waited for events to play out in their own time. He would have manipulated, schemed, so that the dice would fall exactly as he willed them to. The thought had come to him more than once to discreetly dispose of Snoke, when Ren spoke of him slightly too reverently for Hux’s taste. He hadn’t entertained it for long, not with Snoke’s patronage so essential, not when Ren would so obviously turn his back on Hux would he slay Ren’s master.

Still, the thought had been there, had been so very sweet. 

 _What difference between you and a man such as Snoke?_ The Queen had asked not long ago at all. Hux prayed there was another answer to give than merely different methods of eliminating one’s rival. And even then, had Hux not sent Ren out to slay Snoke, as Snoke had once sent him to slay Hux?

But Hux had followed. He had followed, in the end, and that must carry some weight! Even if the gesture proved futile, doomed, poorly thought out by a weakened mind…

Snoke spoke again, unperturbed by Hux’s lack of response. “Though I admit, you proved far more partial to my apprentice than I expected. All that self-control you so prided yourself in, gone when confronted to a pretty face with a little persistence. Or was it his rumored _experience_ that first enticed you?” he mocked. “I could sense all those repressed desires from the very first day, yet even I had underestimated the potency of them. All that lust, unsatisfied, it shouldn’t have surprised me that you let them overwhelm you.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” Hux lied.

Snoke’s smile stretched wider. “Oh, I imagine it must had burned. I imagine the anguish you must have felt when you discovered just how lost you were to your own weakness,” he said gleefully. Hux wondered if Snoke knew just how accurate he was; Hux’s drunken arrival at Phasma’s home had been among the lowest points of his existence. “Yes, yes I can sense it even now. How you hated yourself – I need not read your mind to feel it oozing out of you.”

“So what if I finally allowed myself some indulgences,” Hux said after a moment’s silence. He shrugged, playing the part Snoke expected of him. “He was eager. And rather skilled, when his mind is set to a task.”

“Yes, he can be that way,” Snoke agreed readily. “I approached him for the same reasons.”

“But not the same applications,” Hux replied gibly. He felt ill speaking of Ren in such a manner, and iller still for how easily he could understand Snoke’s reasoning.

“I do not share your perversions, Lord Hux,” Snoke scoffed, before leering. “Or even your appetites.”

“It hardly stopped you from being the jealous sort.”

“Jealousy has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what was it then?” Hux challenged.

Snoke did not answer right away. He leaned forward, his sunken eyes bearing into Hux’s with terrible intensity.

“I am but one man,” he said lowly. There was no shame in him as he admitted to weakness; rather, he spoke of it as a fact that no longer held relevance. “I cannot maintain a regime on my own, and after my death what happens to my legacy?” He smiled when Hux’s expression spasmed. “Yes, you understand legacy, Lord Hux. Kylo Ren was to be mine, the prolongation of my will through life and death. I have shown him true power, the true meaning of the Force, and through him I could have purged from his bloodline the weakness his uncle encouraged within it – and the philosophies that go with it. Even beyond my death, my actions will have shaped the Force and its use for centuries to come – and he would have been my instrument in doing so.” He leaned back, still staring at Hux, though this time with narrowed eyes. “It is more than what you would offer him.”

Hux swallowed. “Ren found value in my offer,” he retorted.

“He is a fool,” Snoke replied easily. “He is so smitten, too smitten to see your true nature.” His voice lowered. “I do not share that weakness.”

Again, that same attack on his character. And again, Hux could not fully defend himself from it.

 “I have read your mind the first night we met; it told me everything I needed to know,” Snoke continued. “Greedy, ambitious, spiteful creature, the likes of you never change. Ren will see it one day; he will curse you for that betrayal.”

Hux’s breathing didn’t hitch; it ceased entirely.

The fear had been there, in the back of his mind. Unvoiced, barely unacknowledged for fear of making it true. To hear it spoken so clearly, so assuredly, gave it a brief shine of absolute truth; Hux’s treacherous soul was all too eager to echo the words, louder and louder, until it became a shrill ring inside his mind. 

The faltering of his mind seemed to spread to his body. Hux could feel his shoulders shake slightly, his knees weaken. The pistol in his hand nearly slipped from his slacking grasp.

Hux froze, fingers instinctively tightening their hold to keep it from sliding to the floor.

 _Enough!_ His mind screamed at him. _You are letting him cower you! When have you ever given another the satisfaction of letting their words strike true?_

Hux grit his teeth.

Never. He never had. Not his father, not his peers at the Academy, not the military men that were his superior. Snoke was no different, speaking from assumptions and brief encounters, so certain of his supremacy that he did not question his own judgement. But his certainty stemmed from arrogance, and if in his hubris, Snoke had still managed to strike in the heart of Hux’s fears, then Hux would not give him the satisfaction of letting those blows wound him.

Those doubts were not for now. He would drown in them later, he was sure, for they had grown strong as of late. Later, he would face Ren, and with dread would see if his cold heart and his inaptitude at sentiment, had cost him Ren’s affection. And no matter the outcome, he would have the satisfaction of knowing that Snoke was dead. That no matter what, Ren would no longer cower and grovel at the feet of this plague of a man whose every word showed how little he had ever deserved Ren’s devotion.

Right now, he needed to keep a firm control on his own mind, less he gave Snoke reason to dwell into his mind, even if only for cruel sport. So long as Snoke remained confident that he had no need for it, Hux could survive this. Snoke’s arrogance would be his downfall.

“Why did you want me here?” Hux demanded, his voice sharper than it had ever been since the beginning of this conversation, imbued with strength by his newfound resolve. “You will not kill me. If you do, Ren will turn against you.”

For the first time, Snoke let true displeasure shine through his arrogant air. His expression soured. “Perhaps,” he hissed, before sniffing almost petulantly. “It doesn’t matter. There is no need for me to kill you.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed. “You are not so fickle.”

“Not fickle, no. Adaptive.” Snoke gestured with both arms, opening them slightly as if in invitation. “At this juncture, you are more useful to me alive. You yourself have much more to gain by lowering your weapon and joining my side.”

Hux sneered, scorn at the proposal overcoming his shock. “Last time I did as much, it worked out rather poorly,” he snipped.

“And yet, what other recourse do you have?” Snoke retorted. “To stand against me will not bring you the status you so desire. At best you will be forgotten, at worst you will be branded a criminal.” His voice lowered, turning into a croon. “But of course, there is another option. We have had our differences; and each one of us holds sway over the other. Let us renegotiate, and both come out stronger for it.”

Hux’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I heed you?”

“Because you know it is the best option left to you, and you have always chosen what was most to your benefit,” Snoke replied easily. “When you joined all those months ago, it was not out of ideal but ambition. You adopted our cause well enough, defended it with much conviction, but it was always secondary to your own advancement in life.” He lifted his chin, eyeing Hux appraisingly, eyes filled with admiration that was, if not genuine, then very well feigned. “Everything you do is for yourself. It is what puts you above the rest.”

The shift in his demeanor was sudden, yet so seamless it was barely noticeable. Had Hux not been so deeply set against Snoke, he might not have noticed the slight change in discourse, how Snoke flattered by placing Hux’s power on the same level as his own.

Hux clenched his jaw. “What are you getting at?”

Snoke’s lips slowly stretched into a smile. “You want Ren?” he purred. “Very well, you can have him. I will not fight you for his time or his consideration, so long as you do not fight me on my plans for him. As small hardship, given that my plans are the same as yours.”

When Hux did not respond, Snoke continued, every word burning with white hot intensity. “There will be a new world order; you can still take your place among it. My second in command, officially, Ren in your bed every night; it is what you wanted, why you first stepped foot in the _New Imperium_ all those months ago.” His voice dropped into a near feverish whisper. “You can have it.”

Oh, but how sweet the picture Snoke painted was! It was all that Hux had aspired to for the past five months, all that he had strived for for so long!

But Hux recognized flattery, recognized the lies he had so often fell for. It had been the same all those months ago, when he had returned from the front believing that High Society would welcome him. It had been the same when the Major General had approached him, and Hux thought it recognition for his prowess. Again and again, he had awaited recognition, only to find that those he sought it from took pleasure in denying him. Yet nevertheless, he had carried on in his pursuit, under the promise that a particularly dazzling feat would be enough.

But Ren’s display of power in Coruscounty had opened his eyes to the truth of Hux’s limits, the truth of Hux’s weakness, his ultimate lack of value in the eyes of those who led the world Hux sought to build. What matter that he had created a wondrous weapon? It could so easily be stolen and used without him. What matter that he had been placed among all other officers who plotted by Snoke’s side? The highest ant only got crushed first.

He was never going to reach the acclaim he had so craved; would never be respected the way he so felt he deserved. Once, the knowledge would have left him raging, or worse still would have crushed him utterly.

Now, he found it liberating.

“You are lying,” he said.

“But I am not. I have no desire to lie to you,” Snoke replied. His expression did not change much, but Hux could have sworn he saw a flash on displeasure in his eyes. “I am much the same as you. Have you ever heard of the noble house of Snoke before? Has anyone had any care to claim a shared ancestry with me? Or even simply to invoke my name as that of a lesser branch?” He shook his head. “I think not. That is because there is no fame to the Snoke name, no prestige save that which I gave it. I came from nothing, and made myself what I am today. Do you not wish to know how I did it?”

“I do not care,” Hux repeated. “You are lying. For you to envision anyone as an ally, you would have to see them as an equal.”

“Come now, Lord Hux,” Snoke asked mockingly. “Do you not see yourself as my equal?”

Hux’s eyes narrowed. “I am better than you.”

“You are lying,” Snoke shot back. “You know what you are. You have known since childhood, that inescapable truth that is scratched in your bones and laced in your blood. You are a lesser creature.” He leaned forward. “I am giving you the chance to be more than that. I am giving you the chance to seize what you have wanted.”

He paused then, glancing at the door. Hux refused to follow his gaze, but strained his ear nonetheless, refusing to be taken of guard. He heard nothing.

He clenched his jaw. Snoke must have sensed something through the Force; the casual display was a sharp reminder of how little power Hux held.

“Ren is here,” Snoke commented idly, turning back towards Hux. “So, what do you say?”

Hux drew up his pistol and aimed.

His movements were whip fast, he knew. His mind was blank, instinct and loathing taking hold of him and pointing the gun in his stead. There was no warning, no hesitation: in a second, the barrel was trained on Snoke’s face.

The next moment, Hux felt the weapon fly out of his hand, pulled away by an overwhelming force. It hit the ground in a dull sound that was muffled by the ugly grey carpet.

 _Well,_ Hux thought with the humor of the gallows. _It had been worth a shot, so to speak._

“Arrogance, one again.” Snoke hissed. “It will be your undoing.”

With a wave of Snoke’s hand, Hux felt his arms fall to his side. They were not plastered against his flank, but simply left hanging in a position that would have felt natural were it not for the unshakeable force keeping them in position. Hux found his feet similarly paralyzed, and could only watch with a deafening heartbeat as Snoke approached him.

“You are right. I cannot kill you yet. You have buried your claws in Kylo far deeper than I initially thought, and I need him still. And if your unwarranted pride will keep you from kneeling to your betters, then that is simply your own doom you spell, however you might try to postpone it.” He was standing before Hux now, and reached out to grip Hux’s jaw. His hold held as much unearthly strength as the magic binding Hux’s arms. “Give me time and I will pull those claws out inch by inch. I will snap them clean, let you bleed, and reclaim what I have invested so much time in. And if I cannot, do not think I will hesitate to cull you both. There is still more than enough life in me to go on and find an alternative. Kylo is useful, but hardly necessary.”

“You will not live to have the chance,” Hux spat out, refusing to show either pain or fear. “Kylo will kill you.”

He spoke the words with far more confidence than he felt, for his heart was beating both fast and loud, and sweat was forming on his brow. Snoke saw it, and chuckled. “If you think a lone, weak-willed boy can match me, then you are a fool.”

Ren’s footsteps could now be heard through the door, growing louder and louder, faltering just a moment. With a final sneer, Snoke released Hux’s jaw, though not before leaning close to pour venom into Hux’s ear.

“I do not believe your intervention will be necessary, Lord Hux,” he hissed. “Be that now or ever. You have done enough damage for a lifetime.”

With that, he stepped back. The door opened a moment later, and Ren stepped in.

Hux’s heart ached at the sight of him. Ren looked as composed as he could, given the circumstances, but shock at seeing Hux was obvious, as were his efforts to keep his face as expressionless as possible. It was a fruitless endeavor, as it always was with Ren. Perhaps he would have been able to maintain his deceit, had events gone according to the plan he had set in his mind. But Hux’s impulsivity, as well as Snoke’s foresight, had ruined any chance of such a thing happening.

 _I am sorry, Ren_. _In wanting to do right by you, I have doomed you._

The words were clear in Hux’s mind, fully formed on the tip of his tongue. Yet no matter how much he wished to speak them, he could not move his lips, nor force any sound to pass his throat. He felt his eyes widen at the realization, the blood draining from his face as he moved his lips ineffectually.

Ren turned towards him, sensing his distress, but his attention was quickly diverted towards Snoke, who had stepped forward towards his apprentice.

“Kylo,” he said, using the frailty of his voice to convey false kindness. “I am so pleased to see you.”

Kylo did not answer him. His eyes remained darted back towards Hux. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his usually deep voice thinned by fright. “Hux, you cannot…”

“We were merely talking,” Snoke cut him off. “There need not be division between us.”

Ren shook his head. “You are keeping him in bondage,” he said. He did not quite manage to sound accusing, not when taken so off guard. “I feel your grip around him.”

Snoke waived his hand dismissively. “It is merely to temper his spirits, until we have reached a compromise.” He glanced towards Hux. “He means well, but you deserve to make your own decisions uninfluenced by the will of others.”

Hux burned at the hypocrisy, more so at being incapable of responding to it. He looked towards Ren, who did not meet his gaze. His eyes were trained on Snoke, looking both like a warrior facing an enemy and a man being cornered by a wild animal.

 _Whatever he says, do not heed him, Ren,_ Hux thought, willing his lover to understand. _You know better._

But Ren gave no sign of having heard him, and Hux’s heart sank. He should not have expected Ren to be in his mind, not when he could not afford such distractions. He had hoped that he would be able to project his thoughts into Ren’s mind, but when had he ever been able to share any part of himself?

He never had. He didn’t know how.

Hux’s sole consolation was that Snoke did not seem to have heard him either. He most likely hadn’t cared to.

In this moment, he was either insignificant or a disadvantage.

“You know why I am here,” Ren said quietly, voice steady yet somehow still betraying his apprehension. “You have never been fooled.”

“No,” Snoke confirmed. “But I was heartbroken.”

Ren glanced towards Hux. “You asked me to kill him,” he said. Instinctively, he took a step forward, putting himself between Hux and Snoke, as if it would make a difference.

“Indeed I have,” Snoke agreed, his voice sweet and cajoling, yet just airy enough so that the prospect of Hux’s assassination sounded both trite and irrelevant. “I did not think the request would be painful to you. Your infatuation was obvious, but to think that a spirit as free, as strong as yours would ever find the desire to settle…”

Ren didn’t answer when Snoke’s voice trailed off. Still, Hux could see tension in every plane of his body, from the clenching of his jaw to the rigidity of his shoulders.

He couldn’t see Ren’s eyes, however, not well enough. His heart ached at the thought of what might be trapped within them.

If Snoke was at all disappointed by Ren’s lack of response, he did not show it. Instead he sighed, long-suffering and regretful. “My apprentice, why did you not tell me? We could have avoided this unpleasantness.”

“Would you have cared?” Ren replied quickly, the small moment of stoicism shattered. His voice was shaking too much to be called sharp.

“Why should I not? I only wished the best for you. As always, my guidance was for the sake of your betterment, to make you as great a man as Vader once was.” Snoke tilted his head to the side, and his tone shifted, taking on a more pointed, disdainful note that was well camouflaged among the sickly-sweet cajoling. “But how can I do that, when you hide from me? Look at the tragedy that so nearly befell us.”

“My master…” Ren said softly, a wavering in his voice showing that Snoke’s blow had struck true, years of subservience and loyalty reasserting themselves far too easily. In the next moment, Ren drew his shoulders back, fighting his own impulses. “You could have known so easily. I have never hidden my mind from you.”

“Which is why I thought I could trust you,” Snoke replied easily. “And given your background, I did not think you would be so quick as to betray another’s trust.”

Ren flinched at that, and Hux’s throat ached from the scream that remained trapped within.

 _He hurt you first!_ His mind cried, full of rage and hate for the old man that held him captive. _He hurt me! He deserves to be hurt in turn!_

But his words did not reach Ren. Hux’s hatred remained ineffectually trapped within his mind, its bile only ever strong enough to poison his own soul.

“But we can move past this,” Snoke continued. “We can learn from this, and be stronger for it.”

Ren held his gaze for a moment, before averting his eyes. Instead, he looked at Hux, who could only gaze back, still captive as he was under Snoke’s hold.

Ren’s jaw clenched.

“Release him,” he demanded. “I will not speak with you without hearing him.”

Snoke held Ren’s gaze for what felt like an eternity, yet couldn’t be more than a second. Then he inclined his head, and in the next moment, Hux felt the grip around him release itself. He nearly collapsed at the sudden lack of support, but before he so much as stumbled forward Ren was beside him, steadying him with a hand on his chest and another protectively placed against the small of his back.

Ren’s hands on him were a welcome anchor, yet they couldn’t keep his mind from spiraling in confusion.

No matter. He needed to cease this opportunity while it lasted. He needed to shake Ren out of the stupor Snoke’s manipulations had made him fall into, he needed to -

“So impulsive, Ren,” he heard himself say. The words poured “It is a wonder you go so long without causing disaster.”

Horror gripped him immediately. His eyes widened – only they did not, and his eyebrows merely quirked in the fond, gently mocking manner he had grown accustomed to adopting around Ren; his breath hitched – only it did not, it remained steady and calm.

“Hux…”

“Though of course, I appreciate the sentiment,” Hux continued, the words flowing effortlessly out if his mouth, filled with dry humor that was familiar on tongue and a far cry from the scream of outrage that wished to leave his lips.

“Are you alright?” Ren asked, brows furrowed in worry as Hux straightened himself.

“I am fine,” Hux replied. He felt his hands reach up to straighten his lapels. “I am not as fragile as you seem insist I am.”

Ren looked away at the chastising; Hux had no doubt it was Snoke’s intent. “I did not mean it that way.”

“I know. As I said, I appreciate the sentiment.” Hux’s body turned towards Snoke then, and though he could not show it he was shocked to hear venomous words leave his lips. “To be held captive is an odd way of showing peaceful intentions, Lord Snoke.”

“My apologies,” Snoke replied, inclining his head in contriteness, as if he were not responding to the very words he had placed in Hux’s mouth.

Hux wanted to kill him. He burned with it

Why bother with this charade?

A quote from Tarkin’s book came to his mind: _Give your opponent the illusion of victory. There is little that lowers one’s guard more than triumph._

And indeed, Ren had lost the air of defiance that he had managed to cling to. He looked more confused than anything else, slightly wary, but perhaps even relieved. Whatever the case, whatever conclusion he may come to, Hux could say nothing to correct him. His freedom was nothing but an illusion for Ren’s benefit.

Was this what Snoke had in store for him? Was this the fate he had reserved for Ren? To keep Hux in line through the forceful removal of his autonomy, to keep Ren compliant through pretty lies tailored to his conflicted soul?!

It seemed impossible that Snoke could maintain this forever, yet his words still echoed in Hux’s mind.

_You have done enough damage for a lifetime._

Snoke believed himself capable of maintaining the charade. It need not even last long: only until he could manipulate Ren into turning his back on Hux. Or baring that, until Ren had done his part in securing Snoke his throne, and he could be disposed of. In both cases, Hux and Ren would remain prisoners forever: Hux within the confine of his own body, Ren within the lies Snoke had woven for him.

It couldn’t happen, Hux told himself, panic lacing his every thought. Ren would notice. Surely, he would!

Yet Ren himself had confessed to being easily barred from the mind of others by Snoke. He had said time and time that Snoke was stronger than him. And with his resolve so weak in the face of Snoke’s lies, with Snoke luring him with the promise of an end to the conflict that so tore him apart, would he ever bring himself to question what was before him? Ren hated being lied to, but that fact only made him more desperate to believe.

Hux despised himself for his lack of faith in Ren, hated how easily he could assume the worst from him. But pessimism was second nature to him, and under Snoke’s amused gaze he felt his heart flood with despair.

Yet his face would not convey his own thoughts, and Hux thought he might go mad from the dissonance between his acts and his thoughts. For there was no great darkness suffocating him, no chains keeping him tied down whilst he watched his body from afar. That might have been more bearable, for then he could have felt as complicit as he did now.

But under Snoke’s power, everything felt like _himself_ , only none of it was coming from him. He moved, he spoke, recognizing himself in both yet it was not him, and he couldn’t stop it. He reached out to take Ren’s hand in his, squeezing it in the same manner he had during their walks on Arkanis’ beach, yet at the same time he felt ill at his affection being displayed in such a manner, that his hand and his fondness would be used by Snoke to cajole and touch and…

 _Oh, Lord Hux,_ he heard whispered into his mind, crooning and mocking. _But you are a possessive man._

Had he been able to, he would have clawed at the voice in his mind, would have ripped it to shreds with his bare hands! If he had raged at his powerlessness before, it was nothing compared to now!

The only consolation was the manner with which Ren glanced at their linked hands, brows furrowed even as he squeezed Hux’s hand in turn. It struck Hux then that though he often thought of touching Ren in so intimate a manner, he had never managed to bring himself to do it in front of another’s eyes. The same thought must have occurred to Ren.

In the next moment, Hux felt his own hand pull away from Ren’s; Snoke must have noticed Ren’s confusion as well.

“Such shame in you…” Snoke mused. “Your uncle’s teachings have taken their toll on your mind. How timid you are, when you should be proud!”

“I…” Ren swallowed. “You said to associate was a weakness.”

“Perhaps,” Snoke said dismissively. “I thought I could cure you from your desperate need for the company of others. But I now recognize it to be a part of you, and I accept it fully.”

Hux glanced at Ren; he knew he could do so only by Snoke’s leave, and in the next moment he realized why.

It was obvious the words had hit Ren like a blow, carefully aimed at what remained Ren’s greatest weakness. He could be violent and cruel, needy and desperate, but could not abide the thought of being rejected for these qualities. In that sense, he had been perfectly matched to Hux, who appreciated viciousness and so enjoyed being needed.

But Hux wasn’t enough, or perhaps, Ren was too aware of Hux’s wavering when it came to his powers to satisfy himself with him anymore; the flash of desperate longing that marred his face before he managed to pull it onto a semblance of composure spoke volumes.

 _I will kill him,_ Hux thought, hatred lacing his every word. _I will kill him for this, Ren! For every false kindness, every stab disguised in affection, I will rip him to shreds!_

But again, Ren could not hear him.

“I know what is in your heart, my boy. I have always known. I know the loneliness you could never escape from. So isolated you are,” Snoke continued. “By your family, by your former Master’s guidance. By your own powers. Did I not allow you to join the world once more, and revel in what you had so long been starved for? Did you think I would deny you now?”

Ren bit his lips. “Hux isn’t yours to give,” he said, voice only slightly wavering.

“Of course not,” Snoke replied smoothly. “But a worthy life with him… That, I alone can grant.”

Ren said nothing. He swallowed visibly, lowering his gaze until it fell to the ground.  He might have looked pensive like that, but his eyes were far too troubled and unfocussed for that.

“You care for him, that much is obvious. Those secret meetings, those getaways in discreet locations…. I can understand they delighted you. It is just as well, as that is all the world right now will let you have,” Snoke continued, pressing on the opening he found. “What does this country demand you do with your affection? Hide it. Bury it. To bring it out in daylight would ruin you both. Him especially.” His tone turned nearly plaintive. “Do you not tire of lies, Kylo? I can put an end to them, for good.”

Ren clenched his jaw. His next words were both defiant and petulant. “What do I care of the opinion of others? They are beneath me. Us,” he added, glancing towards Hux.

For all the bravado he tried to project, gone was the defiance he had managed to cling to before. He looked far more like the desperate man that had greeted Hux when he had awoken from his stab wound, with none of the righteous fury that had allowed him to push back against Hux’s bile.

“Yet you spend so long enforcing discretion, shielding yourself from their judgement and working within their rules. And why?” Snoke pressed, before glancing towards Hux. “For his sake, I know. You do so much to protect him. So return to me, for his sake.”

“You are right, Kylo. They are beneath us,” Hux said. The words felt foreign on his tongue, though he had spoken similar ones before. Yet coming from Snoke’s will, they tasted foul, as bitter as Hux knew himself to be when left to himself. “Why should we suffer their close-mindedness any longer? We started on this path so that we could claim what we deserved. Why throw it away, when it is so close to us?”

Ren looked at him. “You wished him dead,” he said softly. “He wished to have you killed.”

“So will the Queen, once my use to her has expired,” Hux replied, his tone matching the cajoling nature of Snoke’s words. “Of the two, I find that Lord Snoke is far more amenable to negotiations. If nothing else, our shared affection for you gives us common ground.”

How he wished to scream, to rip his own tongue out! That Snoke would use Hux to vehiculate his own lies somehow seemed to be the greatest of all violations. There was no greater torment than this, to be so ill-used! Worst still was the way Ren looked at him, lost and torn and hopeful all at once, a man so desperate to believe.

Worst of all was the little gasp-like sob that escaped his lips as Snoke used Hux’s hand to reach up and stroke Ren’s cheek. The gesture was affectionate, intimate, public, and Ren… Ren leaned into it.

“Let me protect you,” Hux heard himself whisper. “As you have so well protected me.”

Ren glanced down at Hux’s chest, where the stab wound laid hidden under layers of clothes and bandages. He looked up just as quickly, guilt adding itself to the maelstrom behind his eyes.

 _Ren, please!_ Hux thought desperately. _I would have died if not for you. I was already dead long before I met you. Do not let this add itself to your torment! I could not bear it!_

Ren bit his lip. “I…” he started, but his voice trailed off into nothingness.

Snoke stepped forward, looking every bit the predator ready to take down its prey. “I can let you keep him. I can let you have him in ways this world would never allow.” He did not seem bothered when Ren did not move to look at him; he merely continued talking, punctuating each sentence with another step. “It would be no cost to you. Just return to the life you have already chosen, and forsake alliances reluctantly forged. And for what? If you turn against me, then it will have all been for naught. All those years, all the time spent in recreating yourself, gone to waste.” He let his voice drop to a whisper. “There is no gain in turning away from me. Only loss and the preservation of old chains upon you.”

Ren turned towards him, finally, all his fragile barriers long since reduced to dust. Hux’s heart clenched, and his soul screamed.

_You know the truth, Ren. You know he is lying, do not allow yourself to fool you into thinking otherwise!_

“Old things should be left to die,” Ren murmured, his voice holding a distant, dream-like quality, hinting at a history of pain and hopes behind his words.

Snoke nodded once, a smile slowly forming on his lips. “Yes.”

Ren looked back towards Hux. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I only wanted to protect you,” he murmured, so softly and so timidly Hux could barely hear him. It did not stop the words from cutting Hux deeply.

 _But how then can I protect you?_ He thought through the haze of pain.  _I have failed, I have hardly tried!_

“I know. And I have always trusted you to,” his treacherous lips said instead. “You can do this for me, Ren.”

_No, please, Ren…_

“I know your heart is fickle. I know your resolve is weak. But I know it can be strengthened once more.” Snoke laid his hand on Ren’s shoulder, squeezing once, demanding Ren’s full attention. “Your passion does you credit. Use it to fulfill your destiny! Swear yourself to me once more, and you can give him the world.”

_I do not want it!_

Hux screamed the words in his mind, a paltry substitute to any agency he might have. But he screamed them still, with all his heart. He surprised himself by the force behind them, by their sincerity, yet even so he did not care.

Ren’s breath hitched, Snoke’s shoulders stiffened, but Hux could hardly notice them. For the first time in eternity, words came to him easily, unvoiced but no less said. They washed over him, imposing their truth and their passion on Hux’s battered soul.

_Please Ren, not for this, not for me. Not if it means having you return under the influence of that man. It is not worth it. I am not worth it._

His words, his hurt, his desperate longing for Ren and his safety were all flowing freely, filling him to the brim and then after. They spilled over, releasing themselves into the world; Hux let them, encouraged them, cried out for Ren.

And Ren… Ren _heard_ him.

Ren looked at him, his dark, wondrous eyes boring straight into Hux’s own, and Hux drunk in the sight of them. His every word was for them, for the beautiful, storm-filled soul they held, and though Hux heart ached at the pain they underwent, and the anguish he still felt, he could not help the joy he felt at finally saying what he never thought himself capable of.

 _I love you, Kylo. I love you, well and truly, with flames so bright they burn everything in their path. That love reduced to ashes the man I once was; I mourn him not. That man did not know you, he did not know what it was to want you and have you and be_ whole _. He was a miserable man, he will make you miserable if you revive him._

There were tears running down his face, Hux noted distantly. It shouldn’t have been possible, for Snoke would have never allowed his illusion to be so shattered. Yet at the same time, Hux could not care, for the prospect of losing Ren for good had violently torn down every barrier he had ever raised around himself, crumbling them to dust, never to rise again.

He loved Ren, he loved him so dearly, and curse Snoke for ever making him doubt it! Curse himself for having ever clung to the past, to that vision of himself that so forcefully clung to pride and cold-heartedness to cover his own sense of inadequacy and loneliness.

Hux loved Ren. He had known it before, had forgotten it briefly. Now, he fully understood the depths of it, the power of it and how it had reshaped the foundations of his soul.

“That is enough,” Snoke hissed, but Hux did not heed him. He never would ever again.

_I want nothing else in the world but the chance to be the source of your happiness. It is a cause I will happily devote the rest of my life to. I know none greater._

Hux thought the words, and Ren heard them. Hux was weeping, and Ren did not need to touch him to console him. Because Ren heard him, and he understood, and though Hux was powerless and stripped bare, he felt imbued with a power he had never envisioned before.

Hating Snoke had done nothing but fester his soul; loving Ren broke whatever barrier Snoke might have raised between them.

“Hux…” Ren choked out, his voice thin as it came through the tightness of his throat.

Snoke snarled them, loud and feral. All pretense of gentleness were gone in favor of scorn and bile, and when Ren turned to face him Snoke spoke to him as if addressing vermin. “So quickly, you are persuaded! So easily, you are turned!” He drew himself taller then, let the darkness within him shine, until he exuded an air of power and authority than complemented his menace. “A few pretty words are all it takes to win you, Kylo? Give your heart too readily, to one who will make play of it, and you will suffer for it!”

Ren looked at him, silent, steady, and Hux could hardly breath from emotional exertion and the ever-rising tension in the room. Ren was all but immobile as he held Snoke’s gaze, stretching every second into an excruciating eternity.

“You are right,” he breathed out. “Of course, you are right.”

The next moment, he flung his hand out; Snoke went flying backwards.

Hux moved back, gasping for breath as he felt Snoke’s hold on him release fully. He expected to see Snoke’s body violently hit the wall, but instead the old man flipped himself over mid-air, landing on his feet with far more grace than his frail body would have given to expect. His head snapped up as soon as he landed, so fast that Hux would not have been surprised to hear a sickening crack at the motion.

But no, Snoke was silent, so unnervingly silent. Even as his eyes shone with fury, he did not speak, nor did he even grunt. He drew himself to his full height and flung out his hand in one smooth motion.

Hux felt a ripple through the air, an invisible blast that hit him in the stomach, leaving him breathless once more. His eyes teared up from the pain, yet even through blurred vision he could see Ren recoil as he was hit as well. He must have anticipated Snoke’s retaliation, as he successfully remained on his feet under the onslaught, but his stride was broken and he nearly lost his balance for it.

Ren turned his staggered steps into a lunge, unwilling to let Snoke regain the upper hand. As he moved he drew out a small blade, seemingly out of nowhere. It must have been hiding on his person this entire time; Ren had most likely intended it for Snoke’s back.

He wielded it well. Hux could tell from his grip, from his quick swings and aim. For a moment, Hux could see the blade meet its target, could see the sharp metal easily sliding into a frail body. Were this any other battle, the outcome would have been inevitable.

Snoke curved is fingers into a claw-like shape.

Lightning burst out from those skeletal limbs, aimed directly at Ren’s head.

Ren shifted his grip just in time. The strike hit the blade, and sparks flew as the metal absorbed the lightning, from the pointed tip to the very hilt of the blade.

Ren screamed, his knees buckling, but he did not fall. He held the blade in his hands, enduring the strain even as the metal proved far too efficient a conductor to the lightning attacking it. The leather hilt must have provided some protection, but not nearly enough for Ren’s hands to sustain no damage. Red marks began to appear around his fingers, trailing down the back of his hand and branching out like frost crystals. The angry red turned purple in some places.

Yet Ren held on. To let go would mean death.

Snoke’s lips were pulled into a snarl as he advanced. Ren stood his ground but could not get out of his defensive stance. As Snoke drew closer, so did the intensity of his lightning.

Hux could only stare, horror freezing him in place, making him no better than a fresh faced cadet during his first day of battle.

_Hux!_

Ren’s voice resonated in his mind. Hux reflexively brought his hand to his temple, as if he could somehow touch Ren through the gesture.

 _I am sorry,_ Ren pleaded. _I stood by so long. I couldn’t tell, couldn’t be sure if the words were yours or not. I couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk attacking the psyche I felt only to discover it was yours. I could have killed you, I…_

“Curse that,” Hux forced out, still too breathless to speak the words higher than a wheeze. “Focus on your own self!”

 _I wanted it to be true,_ Ren confessed quietly, his voice fading from his mind. _But I could never pick an illusion over the reality of you._

“The reality of him?” Snoke snarled. “Oh, but you are still as blind as ever!”

Hux hissed at the words, righteous indignation finally spurring him into motion. He looked around wildly, until his eyes landed on his discarded gun. By some stroke of luck, it lay far enough away from Snoke and Ren that Hux could lunge for it without getting caught in the crossfire.

“Do you think that man to be kind? Do you think him to be devoted?” Snoke kept on mocking. “His sweet words deceive you so easily, as they have countless others in the past. He serves only himself!”

He stood up, his hands feeling so very clumsy as they manipulated the gun in his hand. He only had a few bullets. He couldn’t afford to waste a shot.

Snoke and Ren were still locked in their assault, Snoke slowly towering over Ren as Ren’s legs trembled from the strain. Hux needed to act fast, lest Ren be overpowered for good. Yet he found that he could not quite bring himself to raise his arm and take the shot.

Would a bullet even work? Ren had managed to keep the _Dread-Star_ at bay. Snoke was more powerful still – what would a single bullet do?

To shoot and fail would be tossing away the opening granted to him. To do nothing was akin to letting Ren die.

Neither Snoke or Ren seemed to heed Hux’s dilemma; their fury-filled eyes were still trained on each other.

“He will betray you Ren!” Snoke hissed, his voice matching the crackles of lightning. “You shy away from his mind, but I have seen it! He still is made of greed and ambition, still longs for what he has always been denied as a child! Given a chance, he will strike without hesitation, all for his own desires!” His cackle was unhinged. “I can see it, even now! All his life, he has craved but one thing, and even now there is nothing he will not sacrifice for it!”

Snoke meant those words to hurt, but he meant them as well. Hux could tell, somehow, the sincerity that stemmed for arrogance that dipped into foolishness.

Even now, even after all evidence to the contrary, Snoke could not believe that Hux would care for Ren more than for himself.

Hux stared, and felt the entire world slow down to a halt.

In that moment of frozen time, he could see everything. He could see Kylo’s face, frozen in resolve, trust. He saw Snoke’s vicious, triumphant grin as he looked upon Hux, so certain he was aiming true. Snoke’s words were hanging in the air between them, almost tangible in their weight.

Hux stared, and for that one second, felt himself imbued with more power, more certainty than ever before. He looked upon Snoke, and found him lacking.

Of course his resolve was strong! Of course he would fight for what he desired! It had never been in question. But if Snoke still thought he knew Hux, if even after invading his mind he still believed that Hux was the same lonely, bitter man that had first stepped foot in the _New Imperium_ , then his vaunted wisdom had never amounted to anything at all.

For all his power, for all his experience, from the moment he summoned Hux here to better taunt him, Snoke had been demonstrating his own inferiority. For Snoke was ambitious, self-serving, arrogant and full of scorn for any other person on Earth. He thought in greed, and possession and manipulations, and so long has he looked at those around him through that spectrum that his view became permanently distorted. He walked the world certain of his own superiority, and certain that his own prowess made him untouchable.

Hux, on the other hand, loved Ren with a force that his own soul could not contain.

Through that, he had become greater. Together, he and Ren were greater.

For a brief instant, Hux let himself revel in that knowledge, in the peace and strength that it brought; more importantly, in the clarity it brought.

“Ren!” he said loudly, turning his head sharply to meet his lover’s eyes. He thought of Coruscounty, of the humility and sights he had encountered there. He saw Ren’s eyes widen in understanding, and smiled. “I trust you to protect me once more.”

Then he aimed his gun towards the weapon he had built, which still sat on the desk looking deceptively anodyne. He held his breath, and fired.

Everything moved very slowly then. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Snoke’s features twist into a snarl. Hux saw his hand reach out towards the speeding bullet, saw his body turn ever so slightly to accommodate the gesture. He saw Ren take advantage of the opening, taking advantage of Snoke’s faltering assault to lay another blow. He saw Snoke turn to parry, leaving the bullet free to reach its target.

In the next moment, he let himself fall back, eyes still trained on the _Dreadstar_ as the bullet hit it dead center – shattering the crystal within.

The reaction was instantaneous. All the power contained in that red gem burst out in a wild blast, overwhelming the wires and conductors Hux had built around it. Rather than channel the blast into a five-point star, they barely managed to restrain it for a second before shattering under the strain.

Red filled Hux’s vision, echoing the same explosion that had happened in the old hangar back in Coruscounty. Hux watched it, as awed by the power as he had been the first time he laid eyes upon it, far more terrified still.

In the next moment, he felt a strong, hard chest plaster against his back. Ren’s arms circled around him, holding him close as the explosion washed over them. Hux clung to Ren’s hands, not to pry them off but merely to find some additional anchor as every cell in his body screamed that they would meet their end.

Yet they would not. He had to believe they would not.

The next seconds stretched into eternity, soundless save for the sound of his heart beating into his ears and of Ren’s breath near his ear. Hux forced himself to keep his eyes open, despite instinct to shield them in the face of an imminent collapse of the building.

A second passed. Then another.

The room was still bathed in red. The walls were still standing.

How…?

Hux looked up and let out a choked gasp. It was an ugly sound, to match the horrid feeling rising in Hux as he took in the sight before him.

He hadn’t known what he had planned for, in truth; his only hope was that Ren would somehow be able to shield them both like he had back in Coruscounty. He had thought that Snoke would limit the damage as well, so that perhaps only a few of London’s neighborhoods would be leveled to the ground. The collateral damage would have been regrettable, but minimal compared to what Snoke had in store. 

He certainly hadn’t expected the blast to stay confined within the room.

Snoke was indeed more powerful than Ren, far more powerful than Hux had ever thought possible. Through obvious exertion and tremendous strength, the frail man was holding the _Dreadstar_ at bay with nothing but his hands spread before him. The five point star was frozen in mid-air, sparks flying as each beam churned like a beast barely held back by chains.

Condensed as it was, the blast was a beam of blinding light that shook with barely contained destruction. How clearly it wished to burst out, to spread in all its fury! Yet Snoke held his ground, all illusion of frailty gone as he held his ground. He grunted as he pushed his hands further still.

Hux felt his stomach sink as the red beam slowly began to fold on itself.

 _He will defeat it,_ he thought, shock and helplessness nearly overshadowing his despair at seeing their final recourse beaten. _Our greatest weapon, and he will overpower it._

“No,” Ren said quietly, voice laced with resolve. “He won’t.”

Ren reached out with one hand, his other holding Hux tightly against him.

Hux looked up at Ren, whose eyes were shining from a gold iris and tears of strain. Blood was beginning to drip from his nose and out of the corner of his mouth, which was open in a silent scream. With his features so pinched in exertion, it looked as if he were tearing himself apart.

Throughout it all, his grip around Hux was impossibly tight, as if he were trying to squeeze every ounce of energy out of Hux’s body, to siphon it into his own power. Between the vice-like grip compressing his lungs and the suffocating aura of power hanging in the room, Hux felt like death might claim him through stolen breath.

So he clung back to Ren, until the last of his air left him entirely. And then he clung tighter still.

The room shook. Dust and paint fell from the ceiling, the hardwood floor ripped open as the boards cracked and the very foundations of the building shook.

An invisible scale tipped over.

The blast reduced into one single beam and hit Snoke square in the chest.

In the next moment, there was nothing left of him; no body, no limbs, and what dust might remain of him was quickly lost in the ashes of a destroyed room.

 _Dead,_ Hux thought wildly, gasping for breath that was too thin. His mind was dizzy. _He is dead, Ren had done it, he…_

But Ren was not done.

Snoke had proved too small an outlet for the Dreadstar, too frugal a feast for the hungry beast Hux had created. Though the energy had diminished by hitting a target, it now threatened to spread once more.

Ren roared with all the fury and determination in his soul; exhausted as he was, breathless and beaten as he was, he looked every bit as fearsome as he had back in Coruscounty.

No, he looked greater still.

Hux watched as the solid red beam curved inward, folding into itself in a manner that defied reason. It was a painfully slow process, an impossibility that threatened to undo itself at any moment,  yet carried on nonetheless. As the blast shrunk, it grew so bright that he had to squint his eyes.

Looking away was simply not an option.

 _This is what happens when a star dies,_ Hux thought absurdly.

With one final blinding flash, the blast imploded. As it collapsed inward, it took the ceiling with it.

Ren collapsed as well.

As he fell back, he pulled Hux down with him. Hux couldn’t muster enough energy to keep them upright.

Debris fell all around them, and any stone or wooden beam that should have landed on them slid off an invisible shield, crashing to the ground a safe distance away.

Even now, Ren was protecting them.

Hux let himself sag. He felt his limbs sink into the floor as he stared at the crumbling ceiling, his bone-deep exhaustion countermined by his absolute marvel for the man beside him.

When it was over, London’s dull, grey sky could be seen above them. Panicked shouts coming from the street were loud enough to reach them, yet they were easily drowned out by the low wheeze that left Ren’s throat, which was followed by a rough bout of coughing, until sheer exhaustion gave way and he let himself sag against the floor.

Hux turned to his side slowly, hissing as his wound once more flared with pain. Adrenaline had kept his awareness of his body at bay, but it was fading now, giving way to aching limbs and shallow breathing.

As he turned, he grabbed onto Ren’s vest for balance and leverage. His weak arms were barely enough to keep him from falling back, and more than

Ren did nothing to assist him.

“Ren?” he asked, voice too thin and hoarse. He forced it to be louder, pulling out all the air of his lungs to do so. It hurt, he didn’t care. “Ren?!”

Ren did not stir.

“Ren!”

He was breathing, that much could be said for him. But Hux couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest, could only hear the faintest sound of air being pulled into Ren’s lungs if he strained his ears and listened past the cacophony of panic rising within him.

An ugly wound bisected Ren’s face, an irregular line starting from the top of his brow, cutting through his nose and down his cheek. It was dirty, filled with dust and flakes of paint. Whatever he had done to shield Hux from the collapsing ceiling, he obviously hadn’t extended it to himself.

That fool. That absolute, reckless _fool!_

And the injury was not the only worry: Ren was so _pale_. He always had been fair skinned, but with sweat pearling all over his features, with the deep shadows carved under his eyes, eyes closed and lips parted open, he looked… He looked…

It was foolish, Hux thought. Ren was a force of nature, he wouldn’t be brought down like this. He hadn’t even been injured!

But what if…?

No, no, no! Hux refused to believe it.

He tried reaching for a pulse, hoping to find it strong. His hands were trembling too much to reach the neck.

And Ren was so _still._

“Come now, Ren,” Hux pleaded. “Now is not the time for this.”

It hardly mattered that Hux could attest to his breathing. He was so _still._ It was an unnatural, blasphemous sight to see Ren so inert, so _lifeless…_

Hux shook his head. No, no, he would not entertain such ludicrous thoughts.

Ren had to be well. He _had to_ be.

With great effort, Hux succeeded in heaving himself over Ren’s still form, until they were chest against chest. He reached up to cradle Ren’s face in his hands, ignoring the way his hands grew bloody at the touch.

 “Come now, Ren. Such impassivity hardly suits you,” he said shakily. His thumb brushed Ren’s cheek bone, just below Ren’s eye. “You are never so secretive with me.” When Ren failed to react, Hux forced out a laugh. “I cannot say I care for it.”

Ren did not stir.

Tears began to sting Hux’s eyes. He closed them shut, unable to bare the sight before him any longer. With his hands still clinging to Ren’s cheeks, he pressed their foreheads together. 

“Ren…” he whispered. “Let me in.”

In the next moment, the world tilted, and Hux fell.

_Ren was at the Queen’s ball, laying back on his chair, a smirk on his lips as some nobleman stammered in impotent rage. The pathetic, fat little Lord had insulted him. Kylo did not know the man’s name, had not ever bothered to learn. He had seen the scorn in the old man’s eyes, had heard the scornful words spoken in his mind._

_So he had punished him. Public humiliation was a lenient sentence, when Ren’s rage was known to be far more terrible. A light use of the Force, shattered plate and a wine stain, it was hardly Ren’s most fearsome deed._

_And yet, Kylo relished in the opportunity to flex his powers, even in a manner as discreet as this. Even years after renouncing his uncle’s teachings, it was no less of a thrill to indulge in all that had been denied to him._

_He relished in the hundreds of eyes on him, in the murmurs, in being the center of envy and apprehension. These people, who had no conception of the power he wielded, who cloaked themselves in ill-earned pride, wearing their repressed souls like a badge of honor, happy to gawk and whisper at Organa’s strange, inappropriate child, valuing him for the distraction and the gossip but never…_

_Ren had nothing but venom for them. To be here made his skin crawl._

_And yet master had insisted he attend. For it was the Queen herself hosting this ball, and Ren’s attendance was meant to be a test of Ren’s devotion, of his ability to resist the barely disguised pleading behind his grandmother’s invitation. Those same open arms were behind the Knighthood she had bestowed upon him. She always placed herself in the periphery of his life, even as her daughter and son-in-law had long gone into hiding to build up a case against Ren’s master._

_(Padme Amidala never gave up. Why did she not give up on him?)_

_(Why not, when everyone else certainly had?)_

_Ren looked around him. His wandering had led him to stand among a crowd of people, all of them gathered in small to gossip and socialize. A few of them risked a glance towards him, only to cower away when he met their gaze._

_Ren was surrounded by all of London’s finest. He was alone._

_He had chosen this, for he had long ago accepted that to be part any circle would be to diminish himself. Back when he still bore his mother’s name, he had thought the exchange worth it. He had thought that to bury himself in the iron casket of restraint and passivity, to let himself be so stifled until he could no longer breathe was a natural price to pay, the promised reward his uncle’s approval, his mother’s love untarnished by fear. That family circle, with far stricter codes than High society could ever hope for, how long he had forced himself to fit that mold!_

_It had been nothing but a childish need, a weakness derived from the weak wills of his relatives. They who feared greatness, who feared power that was not theirs to control._

_No, Ren should not have ever wanted anything from them. Never should have craved such hollow feelings; Vader had been at his strongest when he had been alone._

_And so Ren followed him, as he did in all things. He had learned to isolate himself, for a man of his bloodline should need nothing else but his master’s guidance. His nights in London’s brothels were an unworthy display, a poor substitute for a poison he could not rid himself of. It was no wonder his master found them so shameful._

_(He could not regret them, not truly. It was another weakness he had yet to purge.)_

_Cursing under his breath, he changed course to make his way towards the beverage table. The weak liquor they served were not enough to affect him as he wished they would, but they were at least a good enough excuse to justify his later excesses._

_(Perhaps the Queen would finally throw him out of her ball, and her life.)_

_And that is where Ren met him. Another Lord he did not know the name of, with red hair and vicious eyes, pale skin and a long neck disappeared into a primly set bow-tie._

_This one did not cower. He glared at spat out his disdain with little care. It was novel enough that Ren wished to dip into his mind, and what he say there…_

_Intelligence. Ambition. Like all Lords, that same sense of superiority, that same nobleman arrogance that Ren so despised, but different somehow…_

_Oh, a bastard. So how had he made his way here?_

_The more Ren stared, the more fascinated he was. This bastard was a bitter one, proud, driven, and full of resentment that he put in service of his own ambition, which was a crystal-clear goal that he held to with unwavering confidence. This man of no true name and no true bloodline suffered no weakness and would let no ill-placed sentiment get in his way._

_Ren felt a stab of envy twist his guts, clashing with a first spark of desire._

_And then Lord Hux left, granting Ren one final sneer before turning on his heels and carrying on with his set conquest. Ren watched him go and was shocked at the odd sense of loss that had flooded him._

_Ren watched, and felt himself move to find the Major General before his mind had even made its decision – and yet his next course of action felt so natural it seemed less like a decision, and more of an inevitability. In that strange, confusing moment, Ren felt more in harmony with the Force than he ever had before._

_His master did not encourage, nor was likely to approve of Ren’s interference in those matters. Ren was meant to supervise, to be the fist that enforces Snoke’s law. He was not meant to involve himself in the minute, tedious workings of their plot._

_And yet, Ren found himself making his way towards the Major General. A wave of his hand, an order from the Force… It would be easy to make certain he met Lord Hux once more. At least once more._

_(It was far too soon to speak of attachment then. But from the very first moment, Ren had chosen Hux over Snoke’s orders, and he should have known then, oh, how he should have known…)_

Hux flung his head back with a gasp. He was blinking rapidly, his vision blurred from the still lingering , sight of Ren’s memory.

When it cleared, he saw Ren looking at him, exhausted and _alive_ and _present_ , and his half-lidded eyes did nothing to shield Hux from the onslaught of devotion that shone within them. Nor did Hux want them to.

This reckless, foolish, impossible man. How Hux adored him.

“So much has changed,” Ren murmured. “I never would have imagined that you would… That I… But even then, Hux, _even then_ I already…”

His breath left him before he could finish. He made a move to raise his hand, to bring the back of his fingers to brush against Hux’s cheek. Hux intercepted it mid way, and brought the knuckles to his lips. He kissed them, then again, and again and again, lavishing them with the affection he would have bestowed on Ren’s lips were it not for the still weeping wound marring his face.

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, clutching the hand in his. He would never let it go.

“No,” Ren answered, eyes filled with a thousand emotions, and Hux could name each and every one. “It never has with you.”

Hux let out a breathless laugh, tears pearling at the corner of his eyes from the utter relief and joy of it all. Slowly, he lowered his head until it rested against Ren’s chest, his fingers resting just below the lightning scar trailing up to Ren’s neck. He would have been happy to let this moment stretch into eternity, with Ren’s heart against his ear and in his palm, his own given away just as readily.

Not everything was resolved. If the Queen had any strategic acumen, she would be sending some of her men to arrest them as they spoke, lest she take the risk of having them mount another plot. His future was more nebulous than ever, his entire career path being dismantled along with the military. Ren’s prospects were just as nebulous, with his long-time master slain and no way forward but towards a family he could still barely speak the name of.

Yet here Hux laid, bruised, battered, the dreams of a lifetime shattered by his own hands, and feeling utterly victorious for it.

 


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know it's been an age, but it is here!!!! Medical school fought me every step of the way,but I got this done and I got this posted!
> 
> First of all, my profoundest apologies and thanks to GenerallyHuxurious, for their stunning art and incredible patience as I pushed the deadlines further and further. I am so honored to have collaborated with them, and if you haven't checked out their tumblr, do it now! You will find fantastic Kylux content, from art to fic to tumblr drabbles, because they are *that talented.
> 
> I really must thank moussiesshi for their support, and for sticking with me all this time. The KRB was never supposed to last this long, but they betaed every chapter anyway, and made this work much better than it would have been otherwise. They are absolutely amazing, and I am blessed to have had them as a beta.
> 
> And so, the epilogue! And more talking at the end.

**_ Five months later _ **

Hux had taken great care in choosing his outfit for the evening. It was not often he partook in social soirees nowadays, as most nights he found himself wishing nothing more than to remain with Ren in the intimacy of their shared home.

Tonight, however, Phasma had extended an invitation to both of them, and Hux appreciated and respected her far too much not to readily accept. Her assurance that the evening would remain a quiet affair had only cemented his decision.

As he finished buttoning his vest, he glanced at his dress uniform, which had been a regretfully discarded option for evening wear. The insignia marking him as a Colonel shone proudly to his eyes, even in the low light of oil lamps. Looking upon them, Hux felt a swell of satisfaction, as usual dampened by the knowledge of the price that came with his promotion.

Ah, but it must have burned the Queen to agree to his promotion! Alas, what choice did she have? With most of the upper brass arrested for treason, there was a dire need for swift replacement of most commanding officers. Had Kylo not raged and threatened, Hux had little doubt that the Queen would have allowed him to be jailed for his crimes, his collaboration in defeating Snoke only enough to keep him from a death sentence.

But Padme Amidala would not risk losing her Kylo again; after so many years of loss, there was little she wasn’t willing to sacrifice in order to save her grandson like she wished she could have saved her husband.

So Hux left the purge of the Military with a new rank and the promise that any sign of treasonous thoughts would be met with swift retribution. Ren and Hux had little choice but to submit themselves to the Queen’s conditions, which all served her attempts to realign Ren with the views and actions of herself and her disjointed family.

And of course, an unconventional sentence required unconventional means to be enforced.

The door to his room opened, pulling Hux out of his thoughts. He turned his head just in time to see his valet bring him the cufflinks Hux had requested.

“Ah, Rodinon,” Hux said, picking up his red cravat from his dresser before stepping towards him. “Just in time. Come help me with this, will you?”

Hux valet bowed once. “Of course, my Lord.”

Rodinon made quick and efficient work of it, followed by a quick inspection of Hux’s attire to smooth out any wrinkles. He really was a credit to his profession. So much so that the pang of regret Hux felt whenever Rodinon answered to his call instead of Mitaka had almost completely vanished.

Once Rodinon was done, Hux dismissed him for the evening. Both Ren and he were expected for dinner, and where in the past Hux would have demanded that his servant be there to attend to him at his return, he was now more than eager than Ren and he would have the house to themselves upon their return.

With a final look in the mirror, he exited his room, and made his way towards the sitting room where Ren was no doubt waiting for him. As he reached the top of the stairway, he was met with the sound of an argument coming from down below. Ren’s voice carried the most, deep and loud, bearing years of frustration and anger as he shouted:

“I have no wish to be _helped_!” 

“And therein lies the problem!” came another voice, female and increasingly familiar.

Hux paused in his steps, his lips pulling into an ugly sneer.

It was _her_ again, the Queen’s newest agent. A slip of a girl that had arrived in London along with Ren’s vagabond of an uncle, and promptly made a nuisance of herself in Hux and Ren’s life. Acting as the Queen’s representative, intrusive and demanding as she constantly requested to speak privately with Ren. Ren had no choice but to accept. He left every conversation in a foul mood that fluctuated between anger and misery; it took hours sometimes for Hux to pull him out of such a state.

Just for that, Hux hated the girl.

The fact that she could use the Force, and thus met Hux’s glare and silent curses with an unimpressed brow and scornful gaze only worsened his bile.

“Ren?” he asked as he came down the stairs, quickly sliding himself by Ren’s side to lay a hand on his back.  “Is everything well?”

Hux felt Ren relax under his touch, his body leaning ever so slightly into Hux’s chest. Hux looked up to see Ren’s gaze upon him, filled with gratitude that couldn’t quite hide the hurt fury that had occupied them moments before.

“Hux,” Ren breathed out, his relief palpable. He drew himself taller, turning back towards their unwanted houseguest with a much haughtier air. “Of course. Miss Rey was just leaving.”

“Benjamin,” Rey said, the name alone carrying all the protest and reproach in the world. She made a move to take a step forward, thinking better of it when she saw both Hux and Ren staunchly holding their position. “The offer still stands,” she continued instead. Though she was sincere in her offer, there was a hint of frustration creeping into her voice that gave Hux much satisfaction.

“I do not respond to that name,” Ren replied curtly. “And have never given anyone permission to use it, least of all you.”

“You call me by my first name,” she remarked.

“For no other reason than you do not have even have enough status for a surname of your own,” Ren said with a sneer. Hux smirked at the jab. “And the name Skywalker is too noble and valuable to be stolen by an ascended street rat.”

Miss Rey clenched her jaw but gave no other sign that Ren’s jab hit its mark. Hux wondered how she could care so little at her origins. “I lodge on Whitecross street with your uncle. I assume you are still familiar with the location.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “I imagine I will be seeing you soon enough.”

Ren’s expression darkened. “Then you imagine wrong,” he said. “I will have nothing more to do with you.”

“The Queen has decided otherwise.” At that, Rey displayed something like smugness, or at the very least confidence that she had won the debate. “Remember that you are here at her mercy, and under her conditions.”

Hux’s grip on Ren’s arm tightened. “We do not take kindly to threats,” he spat.

It was not a wise reaction; Rey saw his anger, and met it with even more confidence and serenity. “Hardly threats,” she replied. “But a reminder that gratitude would befit such noble Lords as yourself.” Her expression softened when she turned back towards Ren, hatefully compationate and gently pleading. “She only wants what is best for you. And your mother-”

“Do not,’ Ren hissed in a low voice. “I agreed to letting the Queen intrude in my life; that concession does not extend to Lady Organa. Whatever message that woman has bid you to give me, keep it to yourself.”

“Not a message; an invitation,” Rey replied, much more softly. Finally, she gave a small curtsy, a clumsy thing from one obviously unused to such gestures that nevertheless held much grace. “Goodnight, Lord Ren.”

Ren and Hux watched her leave without a word. The sound of the door closing behind her was unnaturally loud, matched only by the sound of Ren breathing.

Hux sighed. Ren’s arms were trembling at his side, his fist clenched so tightly the white of his knuckles seemed to spread to his fingers. That same tension could be found at the corner of his eyes and along his jaw, all the way into his eyes which were the same traitors to Ren’s turmoil they had always been.

Again, Hux was left to find a way to comfort him. A task he still felt deeply unsure of, despite the staggering practice he had accumulated; it was never easy to soothe years of resentment and pain.

“Kylo,” he said softly, turning to face Ren fully. He placed his hand on Ren’s side, and immediately Ren slid into his embrace, his strong arms coming to circle around Hux’s waist and pull him close.

“Armitage,” Ren breathed out against Hux’s hair. He didn’t say anything else, pressing his lips against the crown of Hux’s head, breathing in deeply as if to absorb Hux into himself.

Hux let him, all the way until Ren was ready to pull away, which he did only halfway. Ren’s hands were still upon Hux’s waist, tightening their hold as he spoke again: “So early in the evening, and already I wish nothing more than to retreat back into our room.”

“I can send a courier to Phasma’s home, if you’d like,” Hux offered. “Excusing both of us for the evening; she will not hold a grudge-”

“No,” Ren cut him off. He glowered. “No, that would be akin to admitting defeat. I will not let that street-rat disturb my day in any way, no matter how relentlessly she tries.” He looked away, eyes dark. There was a tension around his mouth that Hux knew well enough to recognize as Ren resisting the urge to bite his lip. “And my mother, I… I won’t…”

“Ren…”

Kylo shook his head. “I won’t allow her to attempt to put me under her sway again,” he vowed, looking back towards Hux. The darkness in his eyes had been partially replaced by a feverish flame of anger and resolve. It was a welcome substitute. “No doubt she believes that by killing Snoke I have to admit to the righteousness of her actions and words. She expects me to return a prodigal son, contrite and begging for her forgiveness.”

“Perhaps then you might benefit from a meeting with her?” Hux said tentatively. It was a new subject for both of them, and perhaps not the best time to address it. Then again, Hux was at a loathe to mention Organa in their more peaceful moments, so perhaps there would be no better opportunity. “To show her that her conceptions are erroneous, and that you no more wish to retie your familial bonds than you did before?”

“No,” Ren said quickly. His shoulders dropped, and he repeated: “No.”

His uncertainty was obvious, but Hux decided not to press the issue further.

“Just as well,” he said instead, forcing a shrug into his voice. “I am certain she has little love for me, and I have no desire to subject myself to a fruitless meeting with a hostile party, though I would gladly do it for you.” Ren’s eyebrows raised in surprise, subtly but enough for Hux to spot it. “What is with that look? Did you think I thought to leave you alone with her? Honestly, Ren,” Hux shook his head. “Have we not proven to be stronger when we are together? Why ever would I let you face a foe alone?”

There was still a faint trace of hurt that lingered whenever Ren seemed surprised at Hux’s more overt displays of affection, but months of new found certitude in his own feelings and place in Ren’s life allowed Hux to push it away. What he might have once taken as doubt in Hux’s capacity for affection he could now recognize as mere surprise at such overtness from a man of Hux’s restraint.

Ren’s features shifted into stunned awe, and then utter delight. In the span of seconds, Ren’s hands had reached up to cup Hux’s cheeks, and Ren’s lips were upon Hux’s own. The kiss was slow, but no less intense for it, bearing within it all of Ren’s love and gratitude, both of which were unquantifiable treasures.

“Armitage,” Ren murmured against his lips. “My Armitage. Such comfort you give me.” He sighed, resting his forehead against Hux’s. “Even after all this time, I still have trouble believing there is another choice beside falling in line or standing alone. How fortunate I am… that someone would choose to be beside me, knowing me, and expecting nothing. How extraordinary, that that person be you…”

Hux blushed furiously at that. Ren could speak words of deepest love and passion as easily as he might exhale, and even when spoken in the lightest breath they never failed to hit Hux with the force of a hurricane. The simplicity, the thoughtless ease of them only made their impact stronger.

How could Hux ever grow accustomed to it, to be known so well and still be loved?

So overcome was he, he found himself falling back on his own defenses, and quickly looked down as he mumbled much dryer, colder words. “It is only a sensible course of action. No need to let Organa get the upper hand, and there is strength in numbers…”

He was interrupted by Ren’s fond chuckle.  Ren’s finger came under his chin to lift his gaze back up.

Ren’s eyes were bright with amusement.  “Oh, so this is nothing but strategy then?”

Hux’s blush deepned. “There is nothing wrong with practicality…”

“Of course,” Ren answered amiably. “Armitage Hux, ever the strategist. But my Colonel,” his voiced deepened as the back of his hand came to caress Hux’s cheek. “If you will forgive me such an outlandish thought, I do believe there might be some sentiment behind your careful plotting. I do believe it might be affection for me that motivates you.

“Yes well,” Hux cleared his throat. “You have oft encouraged me to follow my heart,” he murmured, placing the flat of his palm against Ren’s chest. “And since you hold it in your hand, where else could I ever be but by your side?”

Ren smiled. He took Hux’s hand up to his lips, and pressed a kiss to each finger.

“When you say such things, I marvel at how I could ever feel as ounce of misery in my life.”

“Then it is upon us to make sure those who would threaten us never hold such sway on our mood,” Hux replied with a smile of his own. “We have wasted enough breath on them, and shall spare them no more thought.” He took hold on Ren’s lapels to pull Ren into a kiss; halfway through, he spotted the clock on the wall behind him and quickly recoiled. “And Good heavens, we will leave this instant! We do not wish to be late.”

Without another word, he used the grip he had on Ren’s clothes to pull his lover towards the door. Ren let himself be pulled, though his steps lingered. “Why not?” he asked with a teasing smirk. “Being late is much more fashionable.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “I have been reliably informed that those red linings on your vest are of last season’s trend, so we might agree that fashion is a lost cause already. Now come along!”

“At your lead, Colonel,” Ren purred. With two quick steps, he caught up with Hux and linked their arms together.

Arm in arm, they stepped out their front door and towards the coach that was waiting for them at the end on the entryway. It was much larger than what was necessary for two people, for Ren seemed determined to ensure that he always had enough room to sprawl on any seat as if it were a divan in a brothel. Hux’s responding blush and unfailingly heavier breathing had much to do with it.

Hux could not help it. It has been almost a year and a half since he had first met Ren, and he still had not grown accustomed to the size of him; the strength of him; the aura of arrogant confidence Ren wore, which was little more than a disguise Hux now knew, but one that Ren wore so well. Though Hux treasured the man who had shaken with grief and relief as Hux tended to the wound of his face, he also still felt a tantalizing heat at the mere thought of the debauched scoundrel of infamous reputation and scandalous poetry.

And didn’t Ren know it.

An eternity ago, on a balcony, Ren had said that nothing would ever be enough. Hux had been too overcome with emotion then to linger on them, yet now they came back, strengthened by Hux’s newfound understanding of them.

There could never be enough of Ren in his life. He could never see him enough, touch him enough. He could never quench his bone-deep need for him. Years and years of self-inflicted isolation had left him more famished for touch and care and love, and the more Ren gave the more Hux craved.

The two of them were making up for years waisted and starting a new age together.

It was another reason to resent the Queen and her agents. How dare she intrude in a time that was not hers? How dare Organa and Rey try to pull back to them that which -

“And here I thought we were to chase them from our minds for the evening,” Ren tutted, shifting so that he sat upright. His forearms were on his thighs as he leaned forward, the look on his face halfway between amusement and reproach.

“How did you know?” Hux asked.

Ren hadn’t read his mind; he never did so without permission.

“You have a very specific sneer meant just for her,” Ren said. At Hux’s answering scowl, he sighed. “Oh, dear love, what use in scolding me for fretting, if your own thought will always circle back to her?”

“I do not scold,” Hux grumbled.

“No, of course not,” Ren agreed, slightly too pleasantly to be honest. He reached out to lay a hand on Hux’s thigh. Hux was surprised at how grounding he found the touch to be; he had not realized until then how unmoored he was feeling. “But you do fret,” Ren continued. “What shall we do with that terrible habit of yours?”

It was Hux’s turn to sigh as he lay his hand upon Ren’s. “Leave it well enough alone, I should think.”

Ren smiled wickedly at that.

“No,” he purred. “No I shall not. Those thoughts of yours are prone to toil away at your mind like a dreadful machine if not taken care of.” The hand on Hux’s thigh tightened was slowly crawling upwards and inwards. “I think I shall have to distract you from them, for your sake.”

Hux did not move, too thunderstruck by the heat in Ren’s eyes to consider doing anything other than shivering in delight. Ren continued with advances, stepping closer to lay a kiss on the corner of Hux’s lips, along his jaw and down his neck. Hux let his head fall back, and Ren took full advantage of the exposed skin, lavishing it with bites and kisses as his left hand continued its most skillful ministrations.

Hux’s eyes flickered shut, a shameless moan escaping his lips before he could think better of it. When Ren’s answering chuckle brushed against his neck, he tipped his head further back.

Only when Ren’s hand came to dip under his shirt did Hux come to his senses.

“Ren!” he gasped, using the hands that were once caressing Ren’s glorious chest to push him back. “Not here!”

Ren paused in his ministrations but did not seem too convinced besides that. “Why not? I find this to be a far better use of both out time.”

Hux took a steadying breath, and with great effort withdrew his hands from Ren’s glorious muscles. His hands spasmed with the suppressed urge to grope. “We will be arriving in no more than five minutes!” he protested, a scold that was more directed to himself than anyone else. He glanced at Ren, and at the mocking look he saw he added more bitingly: “Though I suppose it is not matter to you. It seldom takes you longer to finish.”

Ren’s brows rose in surprise, and he let out a warm bark of laughter. “My, how crass, how harsh,” he said through his smile, raising his hands as he did, and he settled himself back in his seat. “Is time your only objection then? To think this was the man who once decried me for a few innocent poems and a couple of ill-founded rumors.”

“Completely truthful accounts, and a book full of smut, you mean. And we both know that the scorn I felt was nothing more than ill-disguised curiosity.” Taking another breath, Hux straightened himself in his seat, fixing his collar in the hopes that whatever marks Ren had left there would be well-hidden. He did not bother asking Ren if they were, as he had no doubt his lover would lie most skillfully to ensure that they all remained as blatant as possible. “Though I do hope that with our current relationship, you will not find yourself with the desire to create _new_ rumors.”

“Or what, my Lord Hux?” Ren snicked. “Will you _scold_ me?”

“Oh, hush you!”

They arrived at Phasma’s house soon after, Hux still fidgeting with his collar and Ren shaking with silent laughter.

Phasma was there to greet them as they entered. Hux felt the weight of her eyes upon him as he kissed her offered hand.

“Excellent work, Lord Hux,” Phasma commented, voice dispassionate but a smirk on her lips. “It is very hard to tell that your collar is hiding any sort of love-bruise.”

Hux rolled his eyes, and did not dignify her comment with a response. He had no hopes of deceiving Phasma’s keen eye for the indecent. All that mattered was that he was mostly presentable in company, at least at a first glance.

Not that it would matter, in the end. Ren would make sure of it.

“Then I obviously have not done my job correctly,” Ren quipped from beside him, earning a delighted laugh from Phasma.

Hux left them both to it. He turned towards Phasma’s valet, who wouldn’t quite look at Hux, not even when taking his hat and gloves from him

“Thank you, Mitaka,” Hux said as pleasantly as he could manage.

Mitaka bowed stiffly, still not meeting Hux’s eye. Hux stifled a sigh as he let Ren escort him to the sitting room, the warm palm on his back a welcome comfort to a surprisingly painful fallout.

Some things just cannot be forgiven, Hux supposed, especially the death of a friend callously confessed. At the very least, Mitaka was still professional in Hux’s presence.

He let himself be guided away by Ren, his lover pressing a comforting hand on the small of Hux’s back. Hux leaned into the touch and smiled as Ren stole a quick kiss before opening escorting him through the sitting room doors.

The rest of the guest had already arrived. Hux recognized most of them, high ranking members of society the two of them had been introduced to through Phasma. They were all pleasant company; Phasma would not suffer fools in her own house.

Those that had looked up when the two of them entered quickly noticed the overt display of intimacy and affection between Hux and Ren. While most looked stunned (and he dare say even pleasantly surprised), there were still one or two among them who were positively scandalized. Whatever the reaction, this was not a crowd that held any right to the Hux and Ren’s relationship or privacy.

Ren waived his hand in a lazy motion. “You will not notice anything unusual between us,” he said, voice overlaid with a now familiar sheen of power.

A blank look overtook the faces every member in attendance and disappeared just as quickly. The men rose to their feet to greet them, whilst the ladies offered their hand. A few stifled a delighted giggle when Ren bent down for his _baise-main_.

Ah, the allure of a scandalous man! Hux did not bother hiding a self-satisfied smirk when Ren returned to his side, where he rightfully belonged.

The two of them settled down in the sole sofa that yet remained empty. Hux let himself huddle next to Ren’s side, settling into his lover’s embrace when Ren’s arm came to rest around his shoulders.

None in the assembly commented. The conversation promptly resumed, a discussion of current affairs that had the unheard novelty of being had by knowledgeable people. The prospect of a new canal in Suez, cutting travel time to India, was of particular interest. When Hux’s opinion as a Colonel in the Queen’s army was asked, Hux was more than happy to share, knowing that members of Phasma’s entourage would be uniquely able to follow and appreciate talk of military strategy.

Ren’s knowledge of the colonies and other foreign lands proved impressive to their audience. Hux’s felt his heart nearly burst with pride.

His heart was so full these days; the consequences of letting a man as massive as Ren settle inside. There was room for little else.

Ambition had once been an ever-burning inferno within Hux. Now, it was akin to a warm glow from a fireplace, a steady, invigorating warmth that could only spring to life in the secure shelter that was Ren.

A little over a year ago, Hux would have been appalled at himself. He would have taken in his love and need for another and sneered at it as a display of weakness from a mediocre soul. He, who so often measured himself and others on a scale of ambition and ruthlessness, would have looked upon himself and seen nothing but a bastard content in being the lowest form of man.

Ren’s thumb brushed over Hux’s knuckles, and his hand lingered right over Hux’s own.

Hux has never felt greater.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, the final chapter, 120k later.
> 
> To be honest, this is the "short" version of what I initially had in mind. When this fic was still in the conceptual stages, there was going to be a subplot with Rey and Leia as major playors, and vague plans about Sith Artifacts to bring in Han. It was also going to feature a more "Ben Solo-ish" Ren, as in "undercover, but dangerously close to turning dark side completely".  
> Obviously, none of those made it into the final fic, but I am sad that Ren's family didn't make it. Alas, this was Hux's story first and foremost, and time and POV constraints didn't allow for Skywalker drame. 
> 
> In the vague future, I would love to make a Ren centric sequel. However, I have learned from my mistakes, and were I to do so it would a)not be during a bang and b) not be for a while - this up coming year will arguably the most important year of my studies at least, so I cannot add on some self-inflicted pressure regarding fic schedules.
> 
> If you want to talk about this verse - or anything really - come say hi to me on tumblr! I always love receiving messages!
> 
> And finally, thank you to all those that left kudos, that faithfully reviewed each chapter as they were posted, or even who only left one comment! You guys are amazing, and you motivated me to see this fic to the end!

**Author's Note:**

> Victorian slang of the day: tot-hunting, meaning chasing after women. I use it because it pleases me. ^^
> 
> So far, the planned update schedule is once every five days - so Saturday, Thursday and Tuesdays, in that order. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


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